RTANCE 


.... 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 


What  a  strange,   impetuous  boy !  "    she   exclaimed 


A  PERSON  OF 
SOME  IMPORTANCE 

«r 
LLOYD  OSBOURNE 


AUTHOR  OF 
THE  ADVENTURER,  INFATUATION.  ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

A.  B.  WENZELL 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1911 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS    OF 

BRAUNWORTH    &    CO. 

BOOKBINDERS    AND    PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,    N.    Y. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  DISGRACED      .                                                            i 

II  WHO  is  JOHN  MORT?     .        .       ....      12 

III  RESCUE  AT  SEA       .......     23 

IV  THE  RUBY  RING 25 

V    THE  KANAKA  KING 32 

VI  A  VOICE  AT  THE  TELEPHONE       ....      49 

VII    CHRISTINE  MARSHALL 60 

VIII    HEART  BREAK  HILL 71 

IX  MR.  KAY  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF          ...     92 

X    MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 101 

XI    THE  PRIVATE  CAR 1 16 

XII    THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 128 

XIII  DISCHARGED  150 

XIV  A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 165 

XV  PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS         .       .       .180 

XVI    DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 193 

XVII  CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS         .....    208 

XVIII    THE  ELOPEMENT .    224 

XIX  A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN        .       .       .240 

XX  A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY     .....    261 

XXI  DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW        .       .       .       .274 

XXII  BRANDEIS  vs.  THE  PACIFIC  OCEAN     .       .       .287 

XXIII  JOHN  MORT 296 

XXIV  LOTOALOFA         .  3r9 


A  PERSON  OF 
SOME  IMPORTANCE 


CHAPTER  I 

DISGRACED 


MATTHEW  BROUGHTON  lost  his  father  in 
1889;  and  less  than  two  years  later,  his 
mother,  worn  out  by  privation,  poverty  and  the  bit 
ter  struggle  to  keep  a  roof  over  her  boy's  head  and 
her  own,  was  laid  beside  her  husband  in  the  Manas- 
wan  cemetery.  Matt,  as  he  was  called,  was  then 
fifteen  years  old,  as  tall  as  a  man,  and  pale  with  the 
all-day  confinement  in  a  lawyer's  office  where  he 
was  employed  as  a  clerk.  To  his  uncle,  who  had 
come  to  his  nephew's  assistance  none  too  willingly, 
he  appeared  an  awkward,  countrified  youth,  with 
neither  manners  nor  looks  to  recommend  him;  and 
Admiral  Beatty,  whose  benevolence  was  prompted 
by  remorse  at  having  done  so  little  for  his  sister 
in  her  lifetime,  was  at  small  pains  to  hide  his  dis 
appointment  in  her  son. 

This  old  gentleman  had  little  else  than  his  retired 
pay  to  live  on,  and  an  expensive  family  to  take  care 
of.  To  him  the  red-eyed,  shabbily  dressed  young- 

i 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

ster  appeared  as  the  emblem  of  drastic  economies 
to  come;  and  as  the  equivalent  of  good  cigars,  cosy 
club  dinners,  and  a  thoroughbred  Kentucky  mare, 
he  certainly  came  high ;  and  the  admiral's  face,  usu 
ally  so  genial,  grew  very  overcast  at  the  prospect. 

But  he  took  Matt  back  to  Washington  with  him ; 
tried  in  his  stiff  way  to  be  kind ;  and  after  some  re 
flection  as  to  what  was  to  be  done,  secured  for  the 
boy  an  appointment  to  the  Naval  Academy  at  An 
napolis.  Matt's  education,  as  far  as  it  had  gone,  was 
of  the  ordinary,  ineffectual  character — a  smattering 
of  everything  under  the  sun,  from  physiology  to 
Greek  art — an  imposing  curriculum  that  none  the 
less  left  him  unable  to  spell,  or  even  write,  two  co 
herent  lines  of  good  English.  It  took  eight  months' 
coaching  to  prepare  him  for  the  entrance  examina 
tions,  which  he  not  only  passed  successfully,  but  had 
the  keen  delight  of  seeing  his  name  third  on  the  list. 

Annapolis  did  wonders  for  Matt.  In  two  years  he 
was  one  of  the  smartest,  best  set-up,  manliest-look 
ing  fellows  in  the  academy.  His  half-starved  frame 
filled  out;  his  face  grew  ruddy  with  health;  erect 
and  graceful,  his  black  head,  fine  complexion,  and 
dark  flashing  eyes  attracted  admiration  everywhere. 
He  led  in  everything,  whether  in  play  or  studies; 
the  traditions  of  the  place  became  his  religion ;  ar 
dent,  clever  and  high-spirited,  his  whole  nature 
responded  to  one  of  the  best-devised  systems  ever 
invented  for  the  making  of  men. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  a  Baltimore  negro 

2 


DISGRACED 

named  Raphael  Stokes  was  admitted  to  the  acad 
emy,  to  the  unbounded  resentment  of  every  one  with 
in  its  walls.  He  was  not  the  first  colored  brother  to 
take  advantage  of  his  constitutional  rights  in  this 
respect;  but  more  stubborn  than  his  predecessors, 
and  to  do  him  justice,  an  able  and  ambitious  young 
man,  he  defied  the  enormous  pressure  brought 
against  him,  and  what  was  almost  harder  to  bear — 
the  heart-breaking  isolation  in  which  he  was  doomed 
to  live.  In  after  years,  with  broadened  humanity 
and  a  greater  sympathy  and  understanding,  Matt 
was  bitterly  ashamed  of  his  own  part  in  the  persecu 
tion  of  Raphael  Stokes.  But  at  the  period  it  seemed 
a  righteous  task;  the  honor  of  the  navy  appeared  to 
be  at  stake ;  by  hook  or  by  crook,  by  fair  means  or 
foul,  the  service  had  to  be  saved  from  the  disgrace 
of  a  negro  officer. 

Matt  was  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  the  academy; 
in  fact  in  one  way  he  was  better,  for  with  char 
acteristic  directness  he  once  sought  an  interview  with 
Stokes,  and  explained  the  whole  matter  with  boyish 
candor. 

"We  have  nothing  against  you  personally,"  he 
said.  "You're  a  pretty  good  sort,  Stokes,  and  it  is 
no  pleasure  to  us  to  try  to  make  you  uncomfortable 
here.  But  you  are  an  intruder,  and  we  can't  let  you 
stay.  I'm  not  saying  that  such  prejudice  is  right — 
but  we've  been  brought  up  to  it ;  it's  in  our  blood  ; 
even  if  you  stick  it  out  and  graduate,  you  will  sim 
ply  pass  from  one  hell  to  another." 

3 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Thank  you,  Broughton,  but  I  intend  to  stay,"  re 
turned  Stokes,  setting  a  jaw  he  had  inherited  from 
a  Presbyterian  grandfather. 

Months  later,  when  the  negro  broke  down  in 
class,  hysterical  and  overwrought  by  the  strain  of 
that  unequal  conflict,  he  was  ordered  to  the  superin 
tendent's  office  and  a  searching  inquiry  was  insti 
tuted.  Matt  was  less  guilty  than  twenty  others, 
yet  he  found  himself  among  the  four  who  were 
placed  under  arrest.  Justice  in  such  cases  is  always 
somewhat  capricious;  too  often  it  is  the  truthful 
and  straightforward  who  suffer,  while  the  meaner 
escape.  Summary  dismissal  followed  and  Matt 
turned  his  back  on  the  Academy  for  ever. 

Admiral  Beatty  gave  Matt  a  furious  reception. 
He  told  the  boy  that  he  had  thrown  away  all  his 
chances  in  life ;  that  he  was  irretrievably  disgraced ; 
and  read  aloud,  with  fiery  emphasis,  a  scathing  edi 
torial  on  the  affair  in  one  of  the  administration 
newspapers.  The  country  was  on  the  eve  of  a  na 
tional  election,  and  the  black  vote  had  to  be  placated 
by  an  appearance  of  severity  toward  the  four  cadets. 
But  Matt  knew  nothing  of  these  underlying  causes, 
nor  did  his  uncle.  All  he  could  see  was  his  name, 
in  staring  letters,  held  up  to  public  obloquy.  His 
career  was  gone ;  his  uncle  had  turned  against  him ; 
his  whole  little  world  had  tumbled  about  his  ears. 
He  managed  to  blurt  out  a  few  words  of  thanks  for 
the  old  man's  past  kindnesses,  saluted,  and  left  the 
house  in  despair.  That  night  he  was  in  New  York, 

4 


DISGRACED 

and  the  next  day  shipped  as  an  ordinary  seaman  on 
the  British  steel  ship,  Windsor  Castle,  bound  for 
Honolulu  with  coal. 

In  South  lat.  21,  West  long.  123,  at  a  point  about 
six  hundred  and  eighty- four  sea  miles  east  southeast 
of  the  Marquesas  Islands,  and  during  the  course  of 
a  heavy,  sweltering  afternoon,  an  old  hand  named 
Louey  began  to  sniff  in  an  uneasy,  dissatisfied  sort 
of  way.  After  a  while  he  slouched  aft,  returning 
with  the  second  mate,  who  began  to  sniff,  too.  The 
result  of  their  whispered  deliberations  was  to  call 
the  first  mate,  who  sniffed  and  sent  for  the  captain. 
By  this  time  every  one  was  sniffing,  though  the  hor 
rifying  word  for  their  fears  was  left  unsaid.  The 
captain  ordered  off  the  fore  hatch,  and  it  had  hardly 
risen  an  inch  before  there  was  a  sudden  gush  of 
smoke,  and  the  penetrating  odor  of  gas  and  soot. 
Careful  stowing,  ventilation,  unceasing  watchful 
ness — all  had  been  in  vain,  for  somewhere  in  the 
bowels  of  that  three  thousand  tons  of  coal,  spon 
taneous  combustion — the  most  dreaded,  the  most 
mysterious  of  all  disasters — had  fired  the  whole  with 
a  deadly,  tiny  flash. 

For  a  couple  of  days  the  Windsor  Castle  was  held 
to  her  course,  a  stifled  volcano,  half  sinking  with  the 
weight  of  water  poured  into  her.  But  the  fire  could 
not  be  smothered  nor  drowned ;  and  it  was  at  length 
decided  to  lay  her  for  the  Marquesas  in  the  hope 
of  sinking  her  in  some  shallow  bay  before  the  de 
vouring  demon  could  pass  the  hatches.  Great 

5 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

patches  of  her  deck  had  now  reddened  ominously; 
her  bows  hissed  as  they  dipped  into  the  swell;  she 
had  become  a  floating  furnace,  the  sails  parching  to 
tinder  on  her  yards,  and  the  men  risking  their  lives 
every  time  they  went  aloft.  Two  of  her  boats  were 
made  ready,  provisioned  and  equipped,  and  at  the 
last  extremity  were  lowered  and  manned.  As  they 
pulled  clear  of  the  vessel  flame  could  be  seen  leaping 
and  twisting  through  the  smoke  that  rose  mountain- 
high  above  her  decks;  the  sky,  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  was  darkened  as  though  with  an  im 
pending  tempest.  The  loneliness,  weirdness  and 
awful  majesty  of  the  scene  held  the  men  spell 
bound  at  their  oars,  and  when  they  were  roused  to 
make  sail  the  order  was  obeyed  in  silence. 

Matt  was  in  the  first  mate's  boat,  which  proved 
much  the  faster  of  the  two ;  and  despite  the  captain's 
orders,  and  even  entreaties,  gave  him  the  slip  during 
the  night.  The  mate  was  a  decent  enough  man,  and 
well-meaning,  but  he  had  a  wife  in  Biddeford,  and 
an  old  mother  to  support — and  self-preservation  is 
the  first  law. 

They  made  Uapu  in  eleven  days,  and  after  a  brief 
stay  to  rest  and  leave  one  of  their  sick,  held  on  to 
Nuka  Hiva,  the  principal  island  of  the  group.  Here 
at  Taiohae,  the  little  capital,  they  were  received  with 
extraordinary  consideration  by  the  French  officials 
and  residents,  who  gave  them  a  house  to  live  in,  and 
vied  with  one  another  to  raise  a  substantial  purse. 
The  commandant  requisitioned  all  the  vessels  in 

6 


DISGRACED 

port,  and  sent  them  to  scour  every  corner  of  the 
archipelago  for  any  trace  of  the  missing  boat;  but 
it  was  never  seen  again,  and  the  fate  it  met  can 
only  be  conjectured.  Matt  owed  his  life  to  the  ship's 
carpenter,  Olsen,  a  big  Swede. 

"You  take  the  whaler,  sonny,"  he  had  said  con 
fidentially,  waggling  a  red  eyebrow  with  immense 
significance.  "Just  you  stick  to  the  whaler,  no  mat 
ter  what  any  one  says  or  orders."  It  had  cost  Matt 
his  watch-chain  to  make  the  change  with  an  appren 
tice  named  Betts,  and  it  gave  him  a  gruesome  feeling 
afterward  to  remember  the  price  Betts  had  paid  for 
it.  Olsen  subsequently  confided  to  him  with  a  mirth 
less  cackle,  that  the  captain's  boat  was  "that  rotten 
you  could  shove  your  fist  through  it,  though  if  I 
had  let  on  they  would  have  loaded  the  whaler  gun 
wales  under,  and  nobody  would  never  have  got  no 
where!" 

It  did  not  take  Matt  long  to  make  up  his  mind  to 
remain  in  the  islands.  Exaggerating  the  disgrace  of 
his  expulsion  from  the  Academy,  still  smarting  and 
humiliated  at  the  thought  of  his  lost  career,  he  was 
possessed  with  the  idea  to  hide,  to  get  far  away  and 
be  forgotten.  Three  months  in  a  deep-water  ship 
had  disillusioned  him  of  the  idea  of  any  future  there. 
He  could  see  nothing  but  years  of  ill-paid  drudgery, 
wretchedness,  hardship  and  the  vilest  food,  with 
only  the  most  problematical  chance  of  ever  reaching 
the  quarter-deck.  Even  this  had  no  particular  at 
traction  for  him — the  command  of  tubs  like  the 

7 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Windsor  Castle,  with  the  salary  of  a  railroad  con 
ductor,  and  microscopic  percentages. 

Here,  in  the  Marquesas,  he  was  on  the  edge  of 
another  world,  alluring,  mysterious  and  beautiful. 
He  listened  greedily  to  the  tales  of  labyrinthine 
seas,  abounding  in  pearl  and  shell;  of  fortunes 
won  and  kingdoms  overturned  by  white  adven 
turers;  of  lovely  islands,  with  melodious  savage 
names,  flying  their  own  flags,  and  ruled  over  by  half- 
naked  kings  and  queens.  Why  should  he  not  be 
come  a  second  John  Caesar  Goddefroy,  with  fleets 
of  ships;  or  rival  Sternberg,  who  had  held  Samoa 
in  his  hand?  Had  not  Shirley  Baker  ruled  Tonga 
for  twenty  years;  was  not  Young's  daughter  the 
Queen  of  Manu'a ;  were  not  the  Jenkinses  of  Gente 
Hermosa  the  grandchildren  of  a  hardy  old  seaman 
who  had  founded  a  mimic  empire  and  handed  it 
down  to  his  descendants?  Was  not  Tahiti  in  the 
virtual  possession  of  the  Branders  and  the  Salmons, 
the  children  of  two  bygone  Englishmen  who  had 
waged  wars  and  risen  to  kanaka  greatness  ? 

Small  wonder  that  the  boy's  head  was  full  of 
dreams;  that  he  beheld  before  him  wonderful  and 
picturesque  opportunities;  that  either  by  love  or 
force  of  arms  he,  too,  was  resolved  to  gain  a  king 
dom.  The  wife  of  one  of  the  merchants  was  a 
Tahitian,  half-white,  of  extraordinary  beauty,  who 
was  at  home  in  four  languages,  and  an  accom 
plished  musician  as  well.  She  helped  not  a  little  to 
stir  Matt's  imagination  and  give  form  to  the  shad- 

8 


DISGRACED 

owy  queens  and  princesses  that  played  so  important 
a  part  in  his  fairy  tales.  The  rightful  king  of  the 
Marquesas  also  figured  conspicuously  in  these  fan 
cies.  He  was  a  grave,  dignified,  rather  silent  man, 
who  drew  a  pension  from  the  French  government, 
and  worked  hard  as  a  surveyor  in  mapping  out  the 
native  lands.  He  had  lent  Matt  a  horse  to  ride;  be 
friended  him  in  many  ways,  and  often  dilated  on  the 
former  glories  of  his  house.  These  melancholy  con 
fidences  from  the  lips  of  a  real  king,  however  much 
reduced,  flattered  Matt,  and  moved  him  with  an  in 
toxicating  sense  of  romance.  Assuredly  the  Pacific 
was  the  place  for  him,  and  he  thanked  his  stars 
afresh  at  having  escaped  from  the  dingy  fo'castle  of 
the  Windsor  Castle. 

The  governor,  a  French  naval  officer,  had  also 
taken  a  great  liking  for  Matt,  giving  him  the  hos 
pitality  of  his  bungalow  in  return  for  lessons  in 
English.  This  M.  Fouquier  was  a  delightful  fellow, 
who  regarded  his  temporary  appointment  as  a  huge 
joke,  and  ruled  his  canaques  in  a  most  easy-going 
fashion.  "They  are  children,  mon  cher"  he  would 
say  to  Matt,  "and  one  must  treat  them  with  the  same 
indulgence."  The  "hard  labor"  of  the  convicts  con 
sisted  mostly  in  tidying  up  the  commandant's  front 
yard,  or  sleeping  on  his  porch.  "Step  softly,  or 
we  may  awake  them,"  Fouquier  would  remark, 
tiptoeing  through  the  sleeping  figures  on  his  way  to 
play  billiards  at  the  club.  "Though,  stop— thousand 
thunders,— I'm  going  to  lecture  yonder  miserable 

9 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

— he  borrowed  my  music-box,  and  never  took  the 
trouble  to  return  it!" 

When  the  jailer  was  discharged  because  of  a  short 
age  in  his  accounts,  the  commandant  offered  the  post 
to  Matt,  who  accepted  it  with  alacrity — for  it  car 
ried  a  salary  of  sixty  Chile  dollars  a  month,  not 
to  speak  of  occasional  perquisites  in  the  way  of 
sucking-pigs  and  fish.  Thus  provided  for  he  was 
very  willing  to  stay  behind,  and  let  his  fellow 
castaways  go  on  to  Tahiti  without  him.  The 
British  and  American  consuls  there  had  perfunc 
torily  arranged  for  the  survivors  of  the  Windsor 
Castle  to  be  brought  down,  and  thence  sent  on  to 
New  Zealand  by  steamer.  Matt  saw  them  off  with 
a  light  heart,  for  with  their  departure  the  last  link 
that  bound  him  to  civilization — and  to  disgrace — 
seemed  to  snap.  How  little  did  he  realize,  as  he 
wrung  those  calloused  hands,  and  warmly  wished 
his  former  shipmates  the  best  of  luck,  that  his  de 
cision  was  to  cost  him  a  terrible  price ! 

In  the  office  of  Williams  and  Hadley,  ship-bro 
kers,  Honolulu,  was  a  little  package  of  letters  for 
Matt,  addressed  in  their  care.  One  was  from  Ra 
phael  Stokes: 

"DEAR  BROUGHTON: 

"My  health  and  nerves  are  all  gone,  and  I 
am  out  of  the  Academy  for  good.  I  could  al 
ways  feel  how  it  went  against  your  generous  and 
kindly  nature  to  treat  me  ill,  though  even  at  your 
worst  you  were  never  so  mean  as  the  others.  I  sup- 

IC 


DISGRACED 

pose  it  will  surprise  you  to  hear  that  I  admired  you 
more  than  anybody  in  the  world,  and  that  a  slight 
from  you  was  a  thousand  times  more  wounding  than 
the  abominable  personal  persecutions  of  your 
friends.  Now  you  will  learn  from  this  that  a  poor 
'nigger'  can  be  grateful  for  even  a  little.  I  have  seen 
the  president  myself,  as  per  enclosed  cutting  from 
the  Star,  and  have  managed  to  beg  you  off.  Put 
that  to  my  credit  and,  for  God's  sake,  don't  think  I 
ever  meant  intentionally  to  give  you  away.  Your 
dismissal  cost  me  the  bitterest  tears  of  the  many  I 
have  shed,  for  you  were  the  only  one  who  ever 
treated  me  with  a  spark  of  consideration." 

In  an  official  envelope  was  a  curt  notification  from 
the  navy  department,  to  the  effect  that  the  president 
had  been  pleased  to  reinstate  Mr.  Matthew  Brough- 
ton  in  the  naval  academy,  and  that  he  was  to  report 
to  the  superintendent  at  once. 

For  many  years  these  letters  lay  unopened  and 
unclaimed  in  a  dusty  pigeon-hole,  and  were  at  last 
destroyed  on  the  occasion  of  the  ship-brokers  moving 
to  another  office.  They  went  up  the  chimney  in 
smoke,  and  with  them,  in  all  probability,  an  honor 
able  and  distinguished  career. 


IH 


CHAPTER  II 

WHO  IS  JOHN  MORT? 

HPHE  moonlight  streamed  through  the  palms,  out- 
-*•  lining  on  the  beach  a  vivid  tracery  of  fronds  and 
stems.  Across  the  lagoon,  softened  and  mellowed 
by  the  stretch  of  glassy  water,  came  the  sound 
of  a  mouth-organ,  and  the  rhythmic  beat  of  a 
wooden  drum,  as  the  crew  of  the  North  Star  raised 
the  chorus  of  "Good-by,  My  Feleni."  At  intervals 
there  was  a  deeper  note,  as  some  mighty  comber 
flung  its  might  against  the  coral  and  burst  with  fury 
on  the  seaward  reefs. 

In  all  those  lonely  seas  there  is  no  lonelier  island 
than  Lotoalofa.  On  some  Pacific  charts  it  is  called 
the  "Four  Crowns  of  Quiros,"  with  a  question-mark 
after  it.  On  others,  when  it  is  noticed  at  all,  it  fig 
ures  variously  as  "Melampus  Reef,  p.  d.,"  "Winslow 
Shoals,  p.  d.,"  or  merely  "Island,  e.  d." — p.  d.  sig 
nifying  "position  doubtful,"  and  e.  d.  "existence 
doubtful."  In  the  fifties  its  handful  of  inhabitants 
was  carried  away  bodily  by  Peruvian  slavers;  in 
later  years  it  attracted  the  attention  of  Bully  Hayes, 
who  had  had  the  intention,  never  to  be  carried  out, 
of  making  it  into  a  sort  of  pirate  stronghold,  and 
to  this  day  there  stands  his  battery  of  six  small, 
rusty,  iron  cannon,  commanding  the  anchorage. 

12 


WHO  IS  JOHN  MORT? 

Here,  leaning  against  one  of  these  venerable  guns, 
were  two  men  in  close  and  earnest  conversation. 
One  of  them  was  about  forty-five,  tall  and  thin,  with 
high  cheek-bones,  and  a  narrow,  ugly,  withered  face, 
whose  usual  expression  was  one  of  sardonic  melan 
choly.  But  it  was  not  a  commonplace  face  nor  a 
weak  one.  The  pale  blue  eyes  were  masterful,  the 
nose  pronounced,  and  the  general  air  distinguished. 
Whatever  else  he  had  been  in  the  past,  John  Mort, 
as  he  called  himself,  was  ineradicably  a  cavalry  offi 
cer,  with  an  underlying  military  harshness  that  on 
occasions  could  flame  up  like  a  volcano. 

His  companion  was  Matt  Broughton,  now  a  man 
of  thirty-one,  sobered,  hardened,  and  somewhat 
worn  by  eleven  years  on  the  outposts  of  civilization. 
If  his  boyish  dreams  were  still  unrealized,  it  had  not 
been  for  lack  of  striving.  He  had  thrown  himself 
whole-heartedly  into  that  life  of  danger,  daring  and 
romance,  and  all  he  had  to  show  for  it  were  a  few 
scars,  a  smattering  of  half  a  dozen  outlandish  dia 
lects,  and  the  memory  of  some  desperate  chances, 
taken  and  lost.  At  thirty-one  he  had  achieved  noth 
ing  more  tangible  than  a  hundred  dollars  a  month 
and  the  command  of  John  Mort's  schooner — and 
even  these  he  was  now  abandoning,  to  begin  again 
with  nothing. 

"But,  my  friend,  is  there  anything  you  complain 
of?"  Mort  was  asking,  his  slight  foreign  accent 
more  marked  than  usual  as  the  result  of  his  concern. 

"Oh,  no,  sir." 

13 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Money?  Shall  I  double  your  salary — treble  it? 
That  is  simple." 

Matt  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  here,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  to  his  heart. 
"I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  me;  but  I'm 
tired  of  it  all;  homesick,  perhaps,  dissatisfied,  de 
pressed." 

"And  you  are  determined  to  leave  me  ?" 

"Do  not  reproach  me,  sir.  I  told  you  this  before 
my  last  trip,  not  wishing  to  take  you  unawares." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  John  Mort  with  emotion. 
"Sorry  for  myself  at  losing  one  I  like  and  admire, 
who  for  six  years  has  always  been  so  faithful,  so 
loyal.  Sorry,  too,  for  you,  my  friend,  that  you 
should  choose  to  go  back  among  strangers — back 
to  that  accursed  civilization  where  none  fares  so  well 
as  the  greedy  and  unprincipled — where,  like  a  lot 
of  worms  in  a  pot,  all  are  struggling  to  save  them 
selves  on  the  bodies  of  those  below.  What  will  they 
do  with  you?  Put  a  collar  on  your  neck,  harness 
you  to  the  shafts,  and  lash  you  till  you  drop.  So,  is 
it  that  you  prefer?  So,  is  it  that  for  which  you  will 
surrender  this?"  Mort  raised  his  hand  to  the  tropic 
moon.  "What  a  choice!"  he  murmured.  "What 
a  choice !" 

"It  is  an  impulse  stronger  than  I  am,"  returned 
Matt  after  a  silence.  "After  all,  I  am  a  white  man, 
and  those  are  my  people.  Have  you  never  felt  that 
sudden  longing  to  get  back — that  overpowering,  ir 
resistible,  unreasoning — longing  ?" 


WHO  IS  JOHN  MORT? 

"No,"  retorted  John  Mort  savagely.  "No,  no, 
no !  To  me  it  is  a  hell  I  have  left  for  ever." 

"I  wonder  at  myself,"  said  Matt.  "There  is  not 
a  soul  in  the  world  I  respect  more,  admire  more — • 
yes,  love — than  I  do  you.  Yet  I  am  going." 

John  Mort's  eyes  glistened,  and  he  put  ont  his 
hand,  which  the  other  grasped. 

"Well,  so  be  it,"  he  said. 

"Then,  may  I  sail  to-night  with  land-breeze?" 

"Yes,  you  may  sail." 

"And  my  accounts,  my  vouchers,  and  all  that? 
You  ought  to  pass  them,  sir,  as  well  as  arrange  about 
the  North  Star's  return.  Pardon  my  insistence,  but 
you  have  put  it  off  and  off — " 

"What  amount  have  you  in  the  ship's  safe?" 

"Nearly  eight  hundred  pounds,  sir,  in  French, 
English  and  American  gold,  besides  the  chest  of 
Chile  silver." 

"My  friend,  it  is  yours,  and  the  schooner  also,  it 
is  yours.  It  is  small  enough  return  for  such  loyal 
service — ah,  indeed,  much  too  small,  and  I  will  in 
crease  it  with  this — "  As  he  spoke  he  drew  from 
his  finger  a  superb  ruby  ring,  and  forced  it  on  Matt, 
whose  stammering  words  of  thanks  were  cut  bruskly 
short. 

"There's  another  matter  much  more  pressing,"  he 
exclaimed,  "a  pledge  to  be  given,  and  by  you  sa 
credly  kept — and — " 

"But,  sir,  how  will  you  manage  without  a  vessel  ?" 
expostulated  Matt,  altogether  bewildered.  "You  can 

15 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

not  allow  yourself  to  be  marooned  here — utterly  cut 
off  from  all—" 

"Oh,  I  fear  not  that.  We  are  self-sustaining  now, 
and  besides,  in  a  couple  of  years  I  look  forward  con 
fidently  for  your  return.  Isolation  has  no  terrors  for 
me — rather  a  charm,  a  picturesqueness,  and  a 
greater  sense  of  security." 

John  Mort  paused  on  the  last  word,  peering 
strangely  at  his  companion. 

"Do  you  realize,  Broughton,"  he  continued  at  last, 
"that  during  our  six  years'  close  association,  in 
timacy,  you  have  never  asked  me  a  question; 
that  you  have  never  betrayed  the  least  inquisitive- 
ness  ;  that  you  have  seen  me  draw  forth  whole  pack 
ets  of  Bank  of  England  notes,  often  thousands  and 
thousands  of  pounds — and  never  once  have  you  dis 
turbed  me  by  even  a  look?" 

"Your  private  affairs  were  none  of  my  business, 
sir." 

"True — but  you  must  have  wondered?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"And  speculated,  conjectured,  racked  your  head 
at  a  life  so  peculiar  and  mysterious?" 

"It  has  puzzled  me,  I  admit,  but  I  have  always 
made  it  a  point  of  honor  to  keep  my  curiosity  to  my 
self." 

"And  even  now,  when  you  are  going  away,  per 
haps  for  ever,  with  the  riddle  still  unsolved,  are  you 
not  tempted  to  ask?" 

16 


WHO  IS  JOHN  MORT? 

"Well,  I  suppose  it's  just  this,  sir:  if  you  wished 
me  to  know  you  would  tell  me." 

John  Mort  mused  as  though,  indeed,  he  were  very 
near  to  making  a  confidant  of  his  companion.  The 
spell  of  the  moon,  the  beauty  and  stillness  of  the 
tropic  night,  the  faint,  mellow  throb  of  the  wooden 
drum  timing  a  barbaric  chant  far  across  the  water — 
all  were  conducive  to  an  access  of  friendship,  of 
affection  and  trust,  that  might  sweep  away  the  last 
barriers  of  reserve.  He  struck  a  match  on  the  cor 
sair's  cannon,  lit  a  cigarette,  and  with  an  appearance 
of  some  indecision,  took  a  few  whiffs  before  he 
spoke. 

"It  is  enough  for  you  to  know  that  I  am  a  ghost," 
he  said  oddly.  "Mort  means  dead,  and  the  fancy 
pleased  me  to  take  it  for  my  name.  Before  I 
died  I  was  a  person  of  some  importance;  of 
sufficient  importance,  in  fact — were  my  existence 
here  ever  to  be  known — for  the  news  of  it  to  shake 
the  world.  Broughton,  I  ask  no  promises,  no  oaths ; 
I  simply  tell  you  that  my  life,  my  happiness,  all  that 
is  dearest  and  most  precious  to  me — hang  on  your 
discretion.  Vaster  issues  are  at  stake  than  you  can 
dream  of,  and  to-day  there  are  hundreds  on  my 
track.  A  chance  remark  of  yours,  an  unguarded 
word,  the  most  innocent  of  confidences — and  these 
bloodhounds  might  seize  a  clue  that  would  destroy 
me.  Broughton,  I  rely  on  you  to  guard  my  secret." 

"I  shall  guard  it,  sir." 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"And  you  appreciate,  even  in  this  half -told  way, 
its  supreme,  its  vital  importance  ?" 

"I  do,  sir." 

"Then,  let  us  go  back." 

In  silence  they  walked  up  the  path  to  the  broad 
veranda  of  the  house — the  house  that  had  taken 
three  years  to  build,  whose  massive  walls  were  tim 
bered  with  whole  trees — a  low,  red-tiled,  Spanish 
structure,  in  appearance  half  fort  and  half  mon 
astery,  with  a  cloistered  court  where  a  fountain 
played.  It  had  taken  the  North  Star  a  dozen  voy 
ages  to  furnish  it  with  a  splendor  almost  incredible, 
considering  the  remoteness  of  the  island  and  how 
recently  its  only  inhabitants  had  been  crabs  and  sea- 
mews.  Noble  pictures,  Venetian  carvings  and  old 
brocades,  Flemish  tapestry,  exquisite  furniture  still 
showing  the  faded  gild  of  mediaeval  Italy — nothing, 
so  it  seemed  to  Matt,  could  vie  in  taste  and  luxury, 
in  grandeur  delicately  modernized,  softened  and  re 
strained — with  this  coral  palace  that  sheltered  Mort 
in  exile. 

But  of  all  the  beautiful  objects  within  its  walls, 
none  could  compare  with  its  mistress,  that  radiant, 
girlish  Mirovna,  who  shared  John  Mort's  fortunes, 
and  engrossed  his  entire  heart.  As  fair  as  he  was 
dark,  with  crisp  golden  hair  more  red  than  yellow, 
with  captivating  blue  eyes,  and  a  mouth  all  wanton 
ness  and  dainty  impudence,  she  could  hardly  have 
been  more  than  twenty  when  Matt  first  remembered 
her  in  Guadalcanaar.  Who  she  was  or  what  she  had 

18 


WHO  IS  JOHN  MORT? 

been,  actress,  dancer  or  exalted!  lady,  Pole,  Rus 
sian,  Albanian  or  Magyar — all  was  a  mystery  she 
shared  with  her  somber  husband.  Matt  knew  noth 
ing  save  that  she  was  one  of  the  most  adorable  of 
women.  Her  caressing  and  pretty  friendship  meant 
much  to  him,  and  he  repaid  it  with  the  profound 
regard  of  a  man  that  had  no  other  woman  in  his  life. 
Had  the  need  arisen  he  could  have  died  in  her  de 
fense,  without  the  slightest  thought  of  heroism  or 
sacrifice,  as  men  still  can  do  on  the  frontiers  of  civ 
ilization.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  his  zeal  had 
been  more  actively  engaged  in  matching  ribbons, 
buying  lingerie,  choosing  Paquin  gowns,  and  using 
his  own  judgment  in  regard  to  French  bonnets  in 
Sydney — not  always  with  the  success  his  anxious 
efforts  deserved. 

"Oh,  you  poor,  darling,  silly  capitan!"  Mirovna 
would  only  too  often  exclaim  in  her  bubbling  broken 
English.  "What  you  get  that  for  ?  A  monkey  ?  I 
think  you  want  play  organ  while  I  dance  up  and 
down  with  tin  cup!" 

But  all  that  was  over  now,  to  melt  for  ever  in  the 
swirl  of  receding  years.  He  was  probably  seeing 
that  familiar  room  for  the  last  time,  and  those 
dearer  faces  of  his  friends.  Matt's  heart  was  very 
full,  and  he  faltered  under  Mirovna's  questioning 
gaze. 

"I  can  not  persuade  him,"  said  Mort  with  affected 
lightness,  stooping  to  kiss  his  wife's  hand,  "the 
captain  abandons  us." 

19 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

There  was  no  reproach  in  Mirovna' s  face,  rather 
concern  and  regret. 

"We  have  been  fortunate  to  keep  him  so  long," 
she  said,  enveloping  Matt  in  a  look  of  tender  scru 
tiny.  "And,  oh,  for  six  years,  always  so  good,  so 
loyal,  so  true-hearted  gentleman — surely  never  was 
another  like  our  capitan." 

Matt  ought  to  have  replied,  but  he  could  find  no 
words. 

"The  world  calls  him,"  murmured  John  Mort. 
"A  desert  isle  and  a  pair  of  hermits — after  all,  who 
can  blame  him !" 

"No,  not  the  world,"  protested  Mirovna  quickly. 
"It  is  love — a  woman — every  man  must  have  that. 
But  he  will  find  her,  and  win  her,  and  bring  her  back 
to  us — and,  oh,  so  happy  we  shall  be,  and  I  shall  be 
sister  to  her,  and  the  capitan  must  get  her  just  the 
same  size  like  me,  so  she  can  wear  my  stockings,  and 
everything  I  have.  He  know  all  my  size,  that  dear 
capitan,  like  faithful  lover  or  French  maid — so  he 
had  better  take  tape  when  he  go  courting,  and  meas 
ure  young  lady  very  careful." 

The  laugh  that  greeted  this  sally  was  a  little  con 
strained,  for  already  the  shadow  of  parting  hung 
over  them  all,  and  each  dreaded  the  farewells  that  so 
soon  must  be  said.  After  more  desultory  talk,  half 
reminiscent  and  tremulously  gay,  Matt  rose  from  his 
place  at  Mirovna's  feet,  and  stood  there,  painfully 
conscious  that  the  moment  had  come.  Mirovna  and 
John  Mort  rose  also  with  sad  formality. 

20 


When  once  the  violin  had  touched  his  chin  he  became  a  different  man 


WHO  IS  JOHN  MORT? 

"I  have,  one  favor  to  ask,  before  I  go,"  said  Matt 
somewhat  huskily,  "just  one  favor.  Onae,"  he  went 
on,  addressing  Mort  by  his  kanaka  title,  "will  you 
not  get  your  violin — that  wonderful  violin — and 
you,  Masiofu  Miriovina,  take  your  seat  at  the  piano 
— so  that  my  last  picture  of  you  both  may  be  as  I 
have  always  loved  you  best,  with  your  music  follow 
ing  me  out  into  the  night  ?" 

John  Mort  glowed  at  the  request ;  the  poetic  fancy 
of  it  touching  him  to  the  quick.  He  drew  the  violin 
from  its  case,  his  face  transfigured,  his  eyes  scintil 
lating  and  impassioned,  as  he  gave  a  few  swift 
strokes  of  the  bow  to  test  the  tuning. 

"Music  is  the  only  language — the  divine  lan 
guage,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  how  far  surpassing  the 
stupid  commonplace  of  words!  Captain,  you  are 
a  thousand  times  right ;  and  all  our  affection  for  you, 
all  our  sorrow — all  our  unuttered  hopes  and  prayers 
for  you,  will  find  their  voice  in  what  I  play." 

When  once  the  violin  had  touched  his  chin,  John 
Mort  became  a  different  man.  He  was  strangely 
ennobled ;  the  glamour  of  his  genius  lent  dignity  and 
beauty  to  his  gaunt  frame ;  his  thin,  haggard,  deeply 
lined  face  took  on  a  new  expression,  so  rapt,  so 
inspired,  that  he  might  have  been  in  communion 
with  another  world.  That  night  he  played  as  Matt 
had  never  heard  him  play  before,  with  an  intensity, 
a  fire,  an  unendurable  pathos  that  wrung  the  soul. 
He  had  taken  as  a  motive  one  of  those  simple,  plain 
tive  German  folk-songs,  passing  from  improvisa- 

21 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

tion  to  improvisation  till  it  seemed  the  cry  of  all 
suffering,  doomed  humanity.  Mirovna,  herself  a 
brilliant  musician,  was  quick  and  apt  in  following, 
and  to  Matt's  untrained  ear  marvelously  responsive 
and  marvelously  perfect.  For  a  while  she  strove 
to  keep  him  in  her  glance,  as  though  loath  to 
miss  his  going;  but  as  the  violin  taxed  her 
with  increasing  severity  she  had  to  forego  every 
thing  in  the  absorption  of  keeping  pace  with  it, 
and  thus  it  was  that  Matt  went  unseen,  unnoticed, 
his  eyes  suffused  with  tears — to  linger  for  a  moment 
under  the  moonlight  before  he  could  make  up  his 
mind  to  turn  his  back  for  ever. 

An  hour  later  he  was  aboard  the  North  Star,  and 
the  rustling  land-breeze  was  bearing  him  out  of  the 
lagoon  on  the  long  slant  north.  Six  years  of  his 
life  were  sinking  with  the  palms,  behind  him. 


22 


CHAPTER  III 

RESCUE  AT  SEA 

EXTRACT  from  the  San  Francisco  Chronicle  of 
January  24,  1904: 

RESCUE  AT  SEA 

Among  the  passengers  yesterday  on  board  the 
incoming  Oceanic  S.  S.  Co.'s  Mariposa  was  Captain 
Broughton  and  nine  South  Sea  Islanders,  of  the 
schooner  North  Star,  capsized  in  north  lat.  34,  west 
long.  132,  during  a  heavy  squall.  Captain  Brough 
ton  was  below  at  the  time,  and  hardly  managed  to 
scramble  out  of  his  cabin  before  the  ship  went  over. 
The  disaster  is  ascribed  to  the  carelessness  of  the 
kanaka  crew,  who  were  all  asleep  at  the  moment  the 
squall  struck  the  vessel,  which  was  lying  becalmed 
with  her  sails  up. 

The  crew,  none  of  whom  was  drowned,  con 
trived  to  perch  themselves  on  the  ship's  bottom,  and 
after  four  days  of  intense  suffering  were  picked  up 
by  the  W .  H.  Hall,  of  this  city,  in  lumber  for  Suva, 
Fiji.  The  Hall,  in  her  turn,  transferred  them  to  the 
mail  steamer,  which  was  fortunately  intercepted  a 
week  later. 

Captain  Broughton  can  not  speak  too  highly  of 
the  extreme  kindness  of  Captain  Hayward,  Purser 

23 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Smith,  and  the  officers  and  passengers  of  the  Mari- 
posa  toward  himself  and  his  crew.  A  concert  was 
given  in  aid  of  the  shipwrecked  mariners,  and  the 
sum  of  $318.75  realized  on  their  behalf. 

The  North  Star  was  of  seventy- four  tons  register, 
built  at  Bath,  Maine,  in  1884,  and  carried  no  in 
surance.  It  was  learned  from  Captain  Broughton 
that  she  had  been  employed  in  the  coprah  trade  for 
many  years,  and  was  on  her  way  to  this  port  for 
dry-docking  and  repairs.  Western  bound  ship-mas 
ters  are  warned  to  look  out  for  the  derelict,  which 
was  still  afloat  when  last  sighted. 


24 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  RUBY  RING 

HTHE  loss  of  the  North  Star,  together  with  the 
•*•  coin  in  the  ship's  safe,  cost  Matt  between 
eighteen  and  twenty  thousand  dollars.  The  vessel 
had  not  been  insured,  owing  to  the  troublesome  and 
prying  questions  that  would  have  been  asked, 
which,  if  truthfully  answered,  would  have  inval 
idated  the  policy.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  ruby  ring 
on  his  finger,  and  his  portion  of  the  small  sum  raised 
by  the  passengers  of  the  Mariposa,  he  would  have 
landed  in  San  Francisco  utterly  penniless.  As  it 
was,  his  crew  and  he  became  dependent  on  a  sea 
men's  charitable  institution.  While  others  had 
talked  and  telephoned,  and  promised  vague  assist 
ance,  leaving  the  poor  castaways  shivering  on  the 
wharf  in  a  circle  of  newspaper  men  and  photog 
raphers,  it  was  the  Reverend  John  Thompson,  crisply 
English  and  bustlingly  practical,  who  descended 
on  them,  checked  off  their  names  in  a  note-book,  and 
led  them  away  like  so  many  sheep. 

After  a  night  under  this  kindly  but  somewhat 
austere  roof,  Matt  sneaked  away  in  the  morning  to 
try  to  pawn  his  ring.  Me  hated  to  part  with  it,  yet 
what  else  was  he  to  do  ?  He  had  not  even  an  over 
coat,  and  here  it  was  January  and  piercingly  cold ; 

25 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

he  had  nothing — not  a  tooth-brush,  not  a  spare  shirt. 
His  preoccupation,  however,  was  more  to  avoid  be 
ing  cheated  in  the  disposal  of  the  ring,  for  though 
he  had  little  knowledge  of  jewels,  the  stone  seemed 
to  him  of  unusual  fire  and  purity,  and  evidently  very 
valuable. 

He  determined  to  pick  out  the  biggest  and  most 
fashionable  jewelry  store,  and,  explaining  his  posi 
tion,  ask  the  favor  of  their  expert  advice.  They 
might  be  obliging  enough  to  tell  him  what  the  gem 
was  worth,  and  thus  help  him  materially.  Matt 
knew  San  Francisco  well,  and  accordingly  chose 
Snood  and  Hargreaves  for  his  objective.  His  en 
trance,  which  he  attempted  to  make  as  inconspicuous 
as  possible,  caused  an  undercurrent  of  commotion  in 
this  splendid  establishment.  As  he  paused  at  a  case 
of  napkin  rings,  nerving  himself  for  a  further  ad 
vance  into  the  glittering  stronghold,  he  was  bumped 
into  by  a  passing  gentleman,  and  as  he  was  receiv 
ing  the  apologies  of  the  passing  gentleman  a  hand 
from  behind  felt  for  a  possible  revolver  or  bomb  in 
his  rear  pocket.  It  was  all  so  quickly  and  coolly 
done  that  Matt  had  hardly  time  to  realize  he  was 
under  suspicion.  A  large  mirror  gave  him  the  clue, 
for  there,  at  full  length,  he  saw  what  a  deeply- 
tanned,  wild-haired,  ragged  desperado  he  appeared ; 
and  saw  also,  with  the  tail  of  his  eye,  a  scurry  of 
pale  employees  to  guard  the  exits  and  block  his  es 
cape. 

Flushing  to  the  eyes,  more  with  shame  than  anger, 
26 


THE  RUBY  RING 

and  still  closely  followed  by  the  store  detective,  he 
made  his  way  to  the  nearest  clerk. 

"I  am  Captain  Broughton,  of  the  shipwrecked 
schooner  North  Star,"  he  explained.  "All  I  had 
went  down  with  my  ship,  except  this  ring,  and  I 
should  be  glad  to  get  some  idea  of  its  value  so  that 
the  pawnbrokers  can't  cheat  me." 

"It's  hardly  in  our  line,"  snapped  the  clerk.  "Ex 
pert  valuation  is  a  business  in  itself,  and — " 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  bald,  old 
ish  man,  who,  with  an  air  of  authority,  demanded  to 
know  what  was  the  matter.  On  its  being  explained, 
he  took  up  the  ring,  looked  at  it  with  some  surprise, 
and  asked  Matt  if  he  belonged  to  the  people  that  had 
been  rescued  at  sea  by  the  mail  steamer. 

"Yes,"  said  Matt  smiling,  "and  though  appear 
ances  are  against  me,  I  am  neither  one  of  the  James 
brothers  nor  a  bandit." 

The  man  thawed  at  this,  and  requested  Matt  to 
step  into  his  private  office. 

"I  am  Mr.  Snood,"  he  said,  "the  managing  part 
ner  of  this  concern."  As  soon  as  they  were  inside 
the  office  and  seated,  Mr.  Snood  examined  the  ring 
carefully. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  he  asked  suddenly, 
raising  his  keen  eyes  to  Matt's  face. 

"It  was  given  to  me." 

"Permit  me  to  inquire  by  whom?" 

"My  employer — the  gentleman  whose  ship  I  lost." 

"Why  did  he  give  it  to  you?" 
27 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"I  was  leaving  his  service.  I  had  been  associated 
with  him  for  years.  He  held  me  in  very  great 
esteem  and  made  me  a  present  of  the  ring  on  my  de 
parture." 

"He's  a  very  rich  man — this  employer?" 

"Oh,  yes — very  rich  indeed." 

"Then  you  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  this  ring 
was — er — legitimately  acquired  ?" 

"No  one  who  knew  him  could  ever  doubt  that. 
Why,  it  would  be  utterly  incredible." 

"You  must  pardon  me  for  asking  these  ques 
tions,"  went  on  Mr.  Snood  in  a  kinder  tone.  "It's 
a  good  plan  to  be  careful,  you  know.  After  all,  it  is 
to  your  own  interest  as  well  as  ours,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Quite  so/'  assented  Matt,  hoping  that  Mr.  Snood 
would  soon  come  to  the  point. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  the  latter,  hesi 
tating,  and  examining  the  ring  again  with  evident 
admiration.  "Mind,  I'm  not  saying  you  mightn't  get 
a  better  offer  elsewhere,  but  this  is  the  best  Snood 
and  Hargreaves  can  do  for  you.  We'll  advance  you 
four  thousand  dollars  on  it  at  seven  per  cent,  inter 
est,  and  we'll  engage  to  buy  it  outright,  now  or 
later,  for  fifty-five  hundred  dollars." 

This  was  so  much  more  than  Matt  had  ever 
dreamed  of,  that  he  could  only  gasp.  Fifty-five  hun 
dred  dollars!  He  had  thought  vaguely  of  a  couple 
of  thousand,  trembling  at  his  own  presumption. 
Fifty- five  hundred  dollars!  Why,  that  was  a  for 
tune  !  Not  that  he  wished  to  sell  the  ring  except  in 

28 


THE  RUBY  RING 

the  last  extremity;  nor,  as  he  bewilderingly  con 
sidered  the  proposal,  did  he  care  to  take  so  large  an 
advance  as  four  thousand.  The  interest  charges 
would  soon  grow  beyond  his  powers  to  meet  them, 
and  the  ring  would  be  irretrievably  lost.  Explain 
ing  his  perplexities  to  Mr.  Snood,  it  was  finally 
agreed  that  he  was  to  be  advanced  a  thousand  dol 
lars  only,  with  the  privilege  of  selling  the  ring  at  any 
time  he  wished  for  the  larger  sum. 

A  little  later  he  left  the  store  with  fifty  twenty- 
dollar  gold  pieces  weighing  down  his  pockets,  and 
the  following  memorandum  pinned  carefully  in 
side  his  waistcoat : 

"SAN  FRANCISCO,  January  24,  1904. 
"Messrs.  Snood  &  Hargreaves  hereby  acknowl 
edge  the  receipt  of  a  solitaire  ruby  ring,  of  an  an 
tique,  Oriental  setting,  from  its  owner,  Captain 
Matthew  Broughton,  who,  in  consideration  of  one 
thousand  ($1,000)  dollars,  advanced  to  him  to-day 
by  Messrs.  S.  &  H.  on  security  of  said  ring,  and 
receipt  by  Captain  Broughton  hereby  acknowledged, 
agrees  to  pay  S.  &  H.  seven  per  cent,  interest,  semi- 
annually  on  said  loan. 

"GEORGE  H.  SNOOD, 

For  Snood  &  Hargreaves. 
"MATTHEW  BROUGHTON." 

Matt  returned  to  the  windy  street  in  far  better 
spirits  than  he  had  left  it.  He  had  a  thousand  dol 
lars  in  his  pockets ;  four  thousand  five  hundred  more 
to  draw  on  if  need  be ;  and  best  of  all  he  could  now 
"go  home."  It  was  a  strange  instinct  that  called  him 

29 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

back  to  Manaswan,  for  there  was  not  a  single  tie  that 
bound  him  to  the  place  unless  it  were  his  mother's 
grave.  But  after  years  of  wandering,  of  contented 
exile,  of  acquiescence  in  the  life  he  had  made  for 
himself,  something  within  him  had  at  last  revolted. 
Homesick,  heartsick,  weary  of  palms  and  reefs  and 
naked  savages,  Manaswan  appeared  to  him  as  the 
solution  of  this  subtle  malady  of  the  soul.  At  Man 
aswan  a  miracle  would  happen,  and  he  would  be 
happy.  The  first  use  he  made  of  his  money  was 
to  buy  his  ticket. 

He  gave  the  clergyman  five  hundred  dollars  to  as 
sure  the  safe  return  of  the  natives  to  their  various 
islands;  and  that  afternoon  the  honest,  devoted  fel 
lows,  in  charge  of  nine-year-old  Master  Thompson, 
accompanied  him  across  the  bay  to  cheer  his  de 
parture  on  the  Overland.  Standing  there  in  a  line  of 
nine,  marshalled  by  that  little  white  boy,  they  pre 
sented  a  singular  spectacle  on  the  platform,  what 
with  the  earrings  in  their  ears,  two  with  tattooed 
faces,  and  all  weeping  copiously.  Nor  was  the  effect 
diminished  by  their  singing  a  resounding  hymn,  and 
then  listening,  with  bowed  heads,  to  the  prayer 
Tanielu,  the  Tongan,  offered  up  amid  the  jostle  of 
trunks  and  passengers.  Matt's  own  eyes  were  dim  as 
the  train  moved  away,  and  there  was  a  very  real 
lump  in  his  throat.  Why  was  he  going  to  Manaswan 
while  everything  he  valued  lay  behind  him?  Why 
was  he  leaving  tried  and  true  friends  for  strangers? 
An  island  fairyland  for  a  prim  little  Connecticut 

30 


THE  RUBY  RING 

town?  Yet  his  resolution  did  not  waver,  and  he 
was  inspirited  by  the  thought  that  in  five  days  he 
would  be  "home." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  KANAKA  KING 

A  /T  ATT  was  less  disillusioned  by  his  birthplace 
"A  than  might  have  been  expected.  The  snowy 
landscape,  the  sluggish  river  with  its  frozen  shal 
lows,  the  icicled  and  silent  pines,  the  delight  of  hear 
ing  sleigh-bells  and  watching  the  bright  animation 
of  scenes  so  long  unfamiliar — all  were  satisfying  to 
the  craving  that  possessed  him.  On  the  human  side, 
however,  Manaswan  was  disappointing;  no  one 
seemed  to  care  particularly  whether  he  had  come 
back  or  not;  the  most  cordial  greeting  he  received 
came  from  an  old  gentleman  who  mistook  him  for 
some  one  else.  In  fact,  Matt  remembered  Manas- 
wan  a  great  deal  better  than  Manaswan  remembered 
him;  and  when  he  wrote  to  Washington  and 
learned  that  both  his  uncle  and  aunt  had  long  been 
dead,  he  felt  lonelier  than  ever. 

Matt  took  up  his  quarters  in  Mrs.  Sattane's  board 
ing-house  on  Jefferson  Avenue,  and  fell  into  an  aim 
less,  drifting  sort  of  life,  in  which  the  dinner-bell 
was  the  most  important  part  of  the  day.  He  took 
long  tramps,  assiduously  read  the  daily  paper,  in 
terested  himself  in  the  other  boarders,  and  vaguely 
turned  over  schemes  for  his  future.  With  forty-five 
hundred  dollars  he  could  surely  make  some  kind  of 

32 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

start  somewhere.  But  what  precise  form  of  "start" 
and  what  "somewhere"  ?  Matt  put  civilization  in 
review,  and  was  both  dismayed  and  attracted. 
The  Islands  had  no  very  great  prizes,  nor  any  great 
downfalls,  but  here  was  a  country  with  the  evidences 
of  both  on  every  hand.  He  had  been  so  long  away 
from  it  that  it  was  almost  as  novel  to  him  as  it  might 
be  to  a  kanaka.  It  struck  him  as  terribly  ruthless, 
yet  very  agreeable  for  those  on  top.  It  was  his 
business  to  crowd  in  somewhere  with  his  forty-five 
hundred  dollars  and  shove  his  way  forward ;  every 
body  in  civilization  was  shoving  determinedly ;  Matt 
watched  the  battle  from  the  security  of  Mrs.  Sat- 
tane's  boarding-house,  and  tried  to  nerve  himself 
for  his  own  entrance  into  the  fight. 

Meanwhile  he  smoked  his  pipe  and  made  friends 
with  the  other  boarders.  The  principal  of  these  was 
Hunter  Hoyt,  a  genial,  fat  old  scamp  of  fifty,  never 
altogether  sober,  though  varyingly  drunk,  who,  in 
his  palmy  days,  had  been  a  sensational  journalist  of 
some  celebrity  in  the  newspaper  world  of  New  York 
and  San  Francisco.  Drink  had  been  his  ruin,  and 
he  had  declined  to  do  reporter  work  for  the  local 
Manaswan  paper,  the  Banner.  Shabby,  jolly,  and 
always  with  a  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  and  a  pleas 
ant  (if  often  inarticulate)  word  for  everybody, 
Hoyt  was  one  of  those  irresistible  nuisances  who  are 
popular  when  better  men  are  not.  He  never  paid 
Mrs.  Sattane  more  than  half  his  bill;  his  engage 
ment  with  the  Banner  was  almost  in  the  nature  of 

33 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

alms  to  fallen  greatness;  the  liquor  dealers  allowed 
him  to  fine  them  an  incalculable  number  of  bottles 
of  whisky;  even  the  flower  he  was  so  particular 
about  was  never  paid  for,  except  by  an  amiable 
condescension  that  Signor  Tony  Frendo  perforce 
accepted  in  lieu  of  cash.  There  was  everywhere  a 
contemptuous  affection  for  the  old  scallawag,  whose 
courtly  ways  and  husky  compliments  made  him  an 
especial  favorite  of  the  women. 

Hunter  Hoyt  took  an  instant  fancy  to  Matt,  and 
in  many  ways,  some  of  them  pathetic  enough,  sought 
to  win  his  regard.  It  was  a  proof  of  how  lonely 
Matt  was  that  he  received  these  whiskified  advances 
not  without  gratitude,  and  grew  to  look  forward  to 
that  nightly  talk  in,  the  ex-great  man's  sanctum. 
This  was  a  small,  threadbare  room,  walled  about 
with  dozens  of  photographs,  most  of  them  signed 
with  illustrious  names — actresses,  divas,  statesmen, 
men  of  science,  poets  and  what  not — who  bore  wit 
ness  to  Hoyt's  bygone  glory.  A  ratty  old  Navajo 
blanket  was  supposed  to  transform  the  bed  into  a 
"divan";  similar  artifices  concealed,  though  mea- 
gerly,  the  domestic  nature  of  the  chamber;  when  it 
was  filled  with  tobacco  smoke,  and  the  penetrating 
reek  of  bad  spirits,  no  spot  ever  more  deserved  the 
appellation  of  "den" — Hunter  Hoyt's  invariable 
term  for  it — with  an  accompanying  air  that  implied 
a  whole  suite,  of  which  this  was  the  cherished  corner. 

In  spite  of  his  decadence  there  were  often  times 
\vhen  he  could  be  both  clever  and  entertaining ;  when 

34 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

with  the  right  level  of  whisky  in  his  sodden  old  car 
cass  he  could  regain  his  former  powers,  and  astonish 
one  with  his  mocking,  humorous,  brilliant  flow  of 
talk.  It  was  then  that  contempt  changed  to  admira 
tion;  and  intimacy  followed.  Except  in  regard  to 
John  Mort,  Matt  kept  nothing  back  from  the  old 
fellow,  who  was  insatiable  in  his  questions  and  as 
fascinated  by  the  younger  man's  past  as  any  boy. 

Matt  had  no  conception  of  what  a  picturesque 
figure  he  was  to  those  watery,  bleared  old  eyes,  nor 
how  sincerely  Hunter  Hoyt  adored  him.  As  for  his 
own  looks,  he  had  long  ceased  to  give  them  much 
thought;  at  thirty-one  most  men  have  outgrown 
that;  he  was  scarcely  aware  that  his  fine,  sensitive 
face  was  recovering  the  color  it  had  lost  in  the  trop 
ics,  or  that  his  vigorous  frame  and  broad  shoulders 
and  wavy,  clustering  black  hair  were  likely  to  attract 
favorable  attention.  The  key  to  his  whole  character, 
and  the  underlying  cause  of  his  charming  manners, 
could  be  found  in  the  modest  estimate  he  had  of 
himself.  The  principal  endeavor  of  the  naval  acad 
emy  is  to  teach  the  midshipman  he  is  a  person  of 
very  small  importance ;  who  is  to  do  what  he  is  told, 
keep  his  mouth  shut,  and  respect  the  flag — and  Matt 
had  not  wholly  outlived  this  youthful  training  which 
had  been  put  in  his  bones  to  stay. 

In  contrast  to  Hunter  Hoyt,  the  rest  of  Mrs.  Sat- 
tane's  boarders  seemed  commonplace  indeed.  Mrs. 
Sattane  herself  was  a  careworn,  middle-aged 
woman,  with  a  quelling  smile  and  a  tendency  to 

35 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

moan  over  the  horrors  in  the  daily  paper.  She 
would  pass  over  columns  of  political  and  general 
news  to  pounce,  with  tremulous  zest,  on  some  ob 
scure  paragraph  headed:  "Laborer  Boiled  Alive  in 
Soap  Vat,"  or  "Girl  Candy  Maker  Loses  Entire 
Scalp,"  or  "Night  Riders  Whip  Fainting  Woman." 

Mr.  Price  and  Mr.  Goldstein,  two  grinning  young 
clerks  who  shared  a  room  together,  nicknamed  her 
"Moaning  Mary,"  and  found  a  never-failing  enter 
tainment  at  the  breakfast-table  in  inventing  lurid 
items  of  this  character  and  reciting  imaginary  head 
lines  aloud.  They  considered  themselves  amply  re 
warded  afterward  at  supper  as  "Moaning  Mary" 
would  peevishly  remark:  "I  couldn't  find  that  piece 
about  the  horrible  railroad  accident." 

"Why,  that's  funny,  Mrs.  Sattane,  it  was  there  all 
right." 

"Sure  it  was  there,"  Goldstein  would  confirm, 
giggling.  "Think  of  the  poor  little  mites  all  squashed 
up  like  custard." 

"The  locomotive  plunged  through  sixty  of  them, 
and  they  had  to  pick  little  arms  and  legs  off  the  cow 
catcher,"  Mr.  Price  might  add,  making  half  the  com 
pany  his  confederates  with  a  wink.  "The  headlight 
was  all  splashed  with  blood  and  curls;  wasn't  it, 
Goldy?" 

If  Mrs.  Sattane  then  emitted  that  familiar,  quav 
ering  moan,  the  two  young  men  were  happy  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening. 

Another   inmate   was    a    night   train-despatcher 

36 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

named  Smith,  who  slept  all  day  under  the  attic — a 
heavy-shouldered,  heavy-lidded,  stooping  man,  who 
seldom  spoke  to  any  one,  and  always  had  a  private 
stock  of  bananas.  There  was  a  Miss  Gibbs,  a  dry, 
thin,  weather-beaten  female  in  the  sour  forties,  who 
drove  off  every  morning  in  a  rattletrap  buggy  to 
give  music  lessons  in  the  farm-houses.  A  venerable, 
tottering  old  gray  horse  named  Buggins  furnished 
the  motive  power  for  this  daily  pursuit  of  Miss 
Gibbs'  bread  and  butter,  and  was  a  great  deal  more 
popular  with  the  boarders  than  Miss  Gibbs  herself. 
Buggins,  when  not  busy,  lived  in  an  outhouse, 
though  what  he  lived  on  was  a  source  of  perplexity. 
Miss  Gibbs  said  that  the  farmers  fed  him  as  part 
of  her  arrangement  with  their  daughters,  which, 
even  if  true,  left  Buggins  somewhat  in  the  air  on 
Sundays  and  holidays.  The  general  impression  was 
that  he  got  nothing  but  potato  peelings  and  what 
nourishment  could  be  extracted  from  licking  plates 
at  the  kitchen  window.  Mrs.  Crowther,  the  under 
taker's  wife,  used  to  give  Buggins  an  occasional 
lump  of  sugar,  or  a  bit  of  bread,  earning  with  this 
economical  outlay  the  character  of  a  philanthropist 
and  a  passionate  lover  of  animals. 

The  Crowthers  did  not  live  in  the  house,  but  ped 
alled  there  on  bicycles  for  their  meals,  usually  ar 
riving  late  and  quarrelsome.  Mr.  Crowther  was  a 
dull,  sickly  man,  with  a  fluffy,  capable  little  blond 
wife  very  much  his  junior,  who  had  a  decisive  way 
of  contradicting  everything  he  said.  Crowther  was 

37 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

comparatively  well  off,  with  a  large  and  comfort 
able  apartment  above  his  "parlors"  on  the  main 
street  of  Manaswan;  but  on  account  of  his  occupa 
tion,  and  the  coffins  in  his  window — not  to  dwell 
on  more  horrifying  things  elsewhere — he  was  un 
able  to  keep  a  servant,  and  the  pair  was  thus  forced 
to  become  "mealers"  at  the  table  of  others.  It  was 
a  matter  of  constant  recrimination  between  them 
that  Mrs.  Crowther  would  not  do  her  own  house 
work,  and  the  boarders  were  often  induced  to  take 
sides  in  this  and  other  disagreements — which  the 
boarders  did  with  the  recklessness  of  fools  rushing 
in  where  angels  should  fear  to  tread. 

The  last  of  the  boarders  was  too  humble  a  crea 
ture  to  call  himself  a  boarder  at  all.  Matt  lived  a 
week  at  Mrs.  Sattane's  before  he  even  discovered 
the  man's  existence — a  grave,  elderly  mulatto  of 
a  kindly,  open  face  and  ingratiating  manners,  who 
was  something  in  the  nature  of  the  boarding-house 
skeleton.  His  name  was  Daggancourt — a  possible 
corruption  of  De  Goncourt — Victor  Daggancourt — 
who,  although  he  paid  seven  dollars  a  week,  while 
the  others  paid  only  five,  had  what  might  be  called  a 
furtive  position  in  the  house.  He  would  wait  unob 
trusively  about  the  porch  until  the  rest  had  finished 
their  meal,  when  a  second  tinkle  of  the  bell  would 
summon  him  to  the  disordered  table.  Here  color 
prejudice  forbade  that  he  should  be  served  by 
Bridget,  who  placed  the  dishes  near  his  plate  and 
left  him  to  shift  for  himself.  The  sitting-room  was 

38 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

of  course  forbidden  to  him,  though  he  might  linger 
for  a  moment  in  the  doorway,  without  impropriety, 
and  listen  to  the  superior  race.  He  was  the  owner 
of  a  small  garage  and  machine-shop — "Victor's 
Garage"  it  was  called — and  was  a  widower  without 
children. 

Matt  first  made  his  acquaintance  in  Buggins'  shed, 
where  he  happened  to  find  him  feeding  the  old  horse 
oats  out  of  a  newspaper.  Victor  explained,  some 
what  apologetically,  that  he  was  "tuning  up  the  hay 
motor,"  and  begged  Matt  not  to  mention  it  to  the 
others.  "It  might  seem  like  criticizing  Miss  Gibbs," 
he  said,  patting  Buggins'  neck;  "she  has  a  pretty 
hard  time  to  get  along,  having  to  wear  gloves,  and 
be  a  lady  on  half  nothing,  and  go  out  in  all  weathers, 
rain  or  shine — and  if  Buggins  gets  kind  of  lost  in 
the  shuffle  she  oughtn't  to  be  blamed  too  much." 

In  the  course  of  further  conversation  over  a  cigar, 
Matt  learned  that  the  mulatto  kept  a  sack  of  oats  in 
the  garage,  and  was  accustomed  to  bring  Buggins  a 
nightly  allowance.  "Just  a  h'ttle  dope  to  hearten 
him  up  and  keep  him  from  tumbling  to  pieces,"  said 
Daggancourt,  with  his  quiet  smile.  "This  is  a  hard 
world  for  a  colored  man,  sir,"  he  went  on  seriously, 
warmed  by  Matt's  commendation,  "  'specially  if  he's 
better  educated  than  the  most  of  his  race,  and  is 
given  to  thinking  a  little,  like  I  do.  The  majority  of 
them  are  no  company  for  me,  with  their  common 
ways  and  cheap  ideas ;  and  of  course  I  am  personum 
non  grata  to  white  folks.  Here  I  am,  stuck  middle- 

39 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

wise  between  the  two,  and  when  I'm  tired  of  my 
books  and  my  flute  I  just  come  around  and  talk  to 
Buggins.  He  don't  draw  any  color-line,  Buggins 
don't,  and  I  guess  he'd  rather  see  me  than  the  king 
of  England." 

Matt  saw  more  of  Daggancourt  after  that,  usually 
under  the  benignant  aegis  of  Buggins,  and  in  time 
conceived  a  sincere  regard  for  the  old  fellow,  whose 
lowly,  effacing  life  was  not  without  a  certain  trag 
edy.  There  was  a  fine  strain  in  the  mulatto, 
and  an  innate  dignity  and  kindness  that  com 
manded  respect,  not  to  speak  of  a  whimsical  humor 
that  gleamed  out  even  in  his  most  earnest  moments. 
"You're  a  man,"  he  once  said  to  Matt,  "while  I  have 
the  misfortune  to  be  a  Problem.  That's  a  bigger 
difference  between  us  than  color  itself.  The  darky 
can't  go  anywhere  and  do  anything,  but  right  off, 
he's  a  Problem.  When  we  eat,  we're  a  Problem; 
when  we  go  to  a  hospital,  we're  a  Problem ;  we  can't 
hop  on  a  train  but  there  again  we're  a  Problem; 
when  we  die,  we're  a  Problem,  for,  Lord  save  us, 
black  bones  mustn't  lay  next  to  white ;  and  I  guess  it 
goes  right  up  to  the  pearly  gates  with  us,  Problems 
still,  and  the  poor  cherubim  is  bothered  to  know 
what  to  do  with  us !" 

Matt  snuggled  into  Mrs.  Sattane's  boarding-house 
as  though  he  intended  to  live  there  the  rest  of  his 
days.  He  did  not  seem  able  to  see  beyond,  or  make 
any  plans,  but  drifted  along  as  purposeless  as  a 
cork  in  a  stream,  not  exactly  happy  nor  exactly  un- 

40 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

happy,  but  somehow  spent,  and  with  a  sense  of  wait 
ing  for  his  energies  to  revive.  It  was  so  cold  out 
side  of  Mrs.  Sattane's,  and  so  sleepily  hot  inside, 
and  there  appeared  to  be  such  a  multitude  of  ways  of 
investing  four  thousand,  five  hundred  dollars,  and 
losing  it. 

Nothing  could  be  got  from  the  boarders  except 
warnings.  Crowther  said  that  undertaking  was 
" fascinating,"  but  there  was  "no  money  in  it." 
Hunter  Hoyt  said  that  newspapers  ate  up  promising 
young  men  and  then  spat  out  the  bones.  Price  and 
Goldstein,  vehement  socialists,  announced  that  the 
day  of  the  small  man  was  over,  and  predicted  an  im 
mediate  era  of  blood,  when  the  "proletariat"  were 
going  to  rise  on  the  "bourgeoisie."  Matt,  who  did 
not  know  what  either  of  the  words  meant,  was  de 
pressed  by  the  information.  On  appealing  to  Victor 
the  latter  foretold  the  swift  finish  of  the  garage  busi 
ness.  "Owners  are  getting  to  know  too  much,"  he 
said;  "you  can't  sell  a  ten-dollar  pair  of  gas  lights 
for  sixty,  like  you  did  once.  If  I  was  you,  Marse' 
Broughton,  I'd  try  mules.  There  never  has  been 
enough  mules,  and  there  never  will  be !" 

Matt  accordingly,  though  rather  slackly,  it  must 
be  confessed,  began  to  look  into  mules;  he  ac 
cumulated  stacks  of  mule  information;  he  wrote  to 
Washington  and  got  for  nothing  the  concentrated 
wisdom  of  a  whole  mule  sub-bureau.  The  sub-bu 
reau,  like  Victor,  was  enthusiastic  for  mules,  more 
mules,  unlimited  mules;  and  hastened  to  supply, 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

under  a  mistaken  impression  that  Matt  had  already 
laid  his  hand  to  the  task,  sample  blank  forms  for 
pedigreeing  unborn  mules.  Then  the  War  Depart 
ment,  getting  wind  of  a  mule  raiser,  applied  for 
mules,  specifying  with  extraordinary  exactness  the 
precise  weight,  height,  and  age  of  the  mules  they  re 
quired,  submitting  blank  forms  again  for  sealed 

bids. 

All  this  was  very  encouraging,  and  was  made 
more  so  by  Victor's  request  to  come  in  as  a  partner. 
He  thought  he  could  sell  out  his  garage  for  fourteen 
or  sixteen  hundred  dollars,  and  volunteered  to  be 
Matt's  man  Friday. 

"I  won't  be  any  trouble  to  you/'  he  pleaded  ear 
nestly.  "I  know  my  place,  and  I'll  keep  it,  no  matter 
how  close  we  have  to  live;  and  I'll  cook,  and  wash, 
and  do  everything  till  we're  on  our  feet." 

Matt  did  not  commit  himself;  it  was  so  much 
easier  to  dawdle  along  and  coquette  with  imaginary 
mules,  and  work  out  imaginary  mule  profits,  than  to 
bestir  himself  with  actualities.    Mrs.  Sattane's  was 
like  a  sort  of  feather-bed  to  him,  and  he  hated  to  get 
up.   But  the  idea  of  a  log  cabin,  set  picturesquely  in 
blue  Kentucky  hills,  was  not  without  a  strong  at 
traction.    Here,  waited  on  by  the  faithful  Victor, 
like  a  person  in  a  play,  and  surrounded  by  those 
valuable  animals  of  which  the  world  could  never  get 
enough,  he  saw  a  vision  of  himself,  content  at  last, 
and  with  that  dull,  underlying  heartache  gone  for 
ever.    He  had  a  dream,  too,  of  some  decayed,  lost 

42 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

southern  mansion,  the  perishing  relic  of  before-the- 
war  greatness,  where,  one  day,  stopping  on  his  horse 
for  a  drink  of  water,  the  slender,  lovely  daughter  of 
the  house  would  look  up  into  his  eyes,  and —  Oh, 
yes,  mules  by  all  means! 

One  day,  after  breakfast,  while  he  was  in  his 
room,  he  was  called  down  to  the  parlor  by  the  only 
visitor  that  had  ever  sought  him.  Such  an  unheard- 
of  event  put  him  in  a  flutter,  and  he  ran  down  the 
stairs  two  steps  at  a  time,  hoping  that  it  was  an 
old  South  Sea  acquaintance,  or,  better  still,  one  of 
his  boyhood  chums  at  Annapolis.  But  the  grizzled, 
smiling  man  who  rose  to  greet  him  was  a  stranger, 
and  there  was  no  flare-up  of  recognition  on  either 
side. 

"I'm  the  editor  of  the  Manaswan  Banner,"  said 
the  stranger,  introducing  himself  deferentially. 
"Tom  Maynard,  my  name  is,  and  a  very  injured 
man,  Mr.  Broughton !  Yes,  sir,  a  very  injured  man, 
for  surely  the  local  paper  had  the  first  call  on  a  local 
boy?  Oh,  Lord!"  he  ejaculated  in  the  same  key  of 
pretended  indignation,  "to  think  you  were  hiding 
here  all  this  time,  and  I  didn't  know  a  thing 
about  it !" 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Matt,  smiling  too. 
"What's  this  all  about,  anyway?" 

"And  so  you  are  a  real  live  king,"  went  on  Mr. 
Maynard,  ignoring  the  question,  and  gazing  at  him 
in  humorous  awe.  "What  a  lot  of  stick-in-the-muds 
it  makes  us  feel  that  one  of  our  boys  could  go  out 

43 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  do  that,  while  we  stayed  at  home  with  the 
chores." 

"King?"  cried  Matt.  "I  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about.  You're  mistaken — who  said  I  was  a 
king?" 

"Now,  it's  no  good  putting  me  off  like  that,"  said 
Mr.  Maynard.  "If  it's  in  the  New  York  Clarion 
first,  it  has  to  be  in  the  Manas  wan  Banner  second.  It 
wouldn't  be  fair  if  you  didn't  give  us  second  place, 
considering  you  were  born  and  raised  here,  and  owe 
that  much  to  the  town.  I've  got  a  cracker  jack  sten 
ographer  waiting  in  the  office,  two  typists,  and  the 
operator's  holding  the  wire  for  the  Associated  Press, 
so  get  your  hat,  and  come  along  quick,  like  a  good 
chap." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you're  talking 
about,"  exclaimed  Matt,  growing  impatient.  "Is 
your  office  in  a  lunatic  asylum  or  where?" 

"Then  you  haven't  seen  it  ?"  asked  Mr.  Maynard, 
offended  and  incredulous,  searching  the  younger 
man's  face. 

"Seen  what?" 

"The  big  front  page  Sunday  story  of  the  Clarion 
—the  New  York  Daily  Clarion?" 

"Of  course  I  haven't." 

The  editor,  recovering  his  good-nature,  drew  a 
newspaper  from  his  overcoat  pocket,  and  flattened  it 
out  with  his  hand. 

"There  it  is,"  he  said. 

The  staring  scare-heads  swam  before  Matt's  eyes. 
44 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

Good  heavens,  what  was  all  this?  He  plumped  into 
a  chair,  holding  the  paper  as  though  it  were  a  bomb, 
and  feeling  as  though  he  were  being  pilloried  naked 
before  the  world.  The  smaller  type  was  lost  in  a 
blur,  a  sentence  only  caught  here  and  there,  but  the 
most  danced  before  him  as  unintelligible  as  Sanskrit 

HAIL  TO  THE  KING! 

ROYAL  BROUGHTON  RETURNS  TO 

CHILDHOOD'S  HOME 

KING  OF  THE  KANAKAS  HERE 

PEARL  ISLANDS  AND  DEEP  WATER  SHIPS  FLY  HIS  FLAG 
IN  FAR-OFF  PACIFIC,  WHILE  COPPER-HUED  SUB 
JECTS  LOUT  LOW  TO  MATTHEW  FIRST. 
ROMANTIC  STORY  OF  MANASWAN  BOY  SHIPWRECKED 
IN  LABYRINTHINE  SEAS,  AND  HIS  AMAZING  RISE  TO 
GREATNESS. 

Would  Murder  Him  for  His  Teeth. — Isles  where 
Old  Men's  Beards  Pass  as  Currency. — Palm  Wine 
Jags,  with  Ten  Thousand  Savages  on  the  Blink. — 
How  the  Christian  Half  of  Tapatuea  Massacred 
the  Heathen  Half. — Beachcombers,  Pirates  and 
Mysterious  Characters. — Violinist  who  Held  At 
tacking  Cannibals  Spellbound  till  Wind  Saved  the 
Becalmed  Vessel. — Black  Pearls  and  Goldlipped 
Shell. — Fungus,  Beachdamar,  Ambergris  and 
Sharks'  Fins. — Vast  Lagoons  'Awaiting  Modern 
Exploitation,  but  Matthew  First  Would  Leave 
45 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Them  as  They  Are. — His  Majesty  Only  Smiles  at 
Questions,  and  Remarks  Significantly  that  He  is 
Satisfied. — $^00,000  Worth  of  Pearls  in  a  Match 
box. — Royal  Plans  Uncertain,  but  Will  Probably 
Remain  Here  a  Few  Months. — Say,  Girls,  Don't 
Any  of  You  Want  to  Be  a  Queen  f 

Matt  had  scarcely  reached  the  end  when  there  was 
a  violent  commotion  outside — horses  galloping,  men 
descending  excitedly,  the  porch  shaking  with  the 
tramp  of  feet,  and  pull,  pull,  pull  at  the  bell  as 
though  the  house  were  on  fire.  A  second  later  a 
crowd  of  newspaper  men  and  photographers  surged 
into  the  room,  spattering  the  carpet  with  mud  and 
snow;  a  noisy,  jostling  throng  in  heavy  overcoats, 
all  demanding  "the  kanaka  king." 

"Me  first,  gentlemen,"  cried  Maynard,  grabbing 
Matt  as  though  he  were  a  bale  of  goods.  "The 
king's  mine  till  noon !" 

"The  dickens  he  is!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  mob, 
elbowing  up  to  Matt.  "We're  all  in  on  this,  aren't 
we,  boys?" 

"You  bet  we  are,"  came  from  a  dozen  ready 
throats. 

"Tell  them  they  can  all  go  to  blazes,"  cried  May 
nard,  tightening  his  hold  on  Matt.  "They  can't 
make  you  be  interviewed  if  you  won't." 

"Open  out  there,"  shouted  a  photographer,  letting 
up  a  blind  with  a  crash. 

"Ask  him  to  stand  up,  George,"  cried  another. 
46 


THE  KANAKA  KING 

"Better  flash  him,"  added  a  third,  busying  him 
self  with  a  sort  of  pistol.  "Say,  let's  flash  him!" 

"Oh,  do  open  out,"  wailed  number  one. 

"Sorry  to  intrude  on  you  like  this,  king,"  said  the 
foremost  reporter  to  Matt,  planting  a  muscular  dig 
in  Mr.  Maynard's  anatomy  and  pressing  him  away. 
"Treat  us  right  and  we'll  treat  you  right.  Better  go 
ahead  and  get  it  over  with." 

"Is  it  true  you  were  expelled  from  the  Naval 
Academy?"  asked  a  voice. 

"How  did  you  get  started  in  this  king  business  ?" 
inquired  another. 

"He's  mine  till  noon,"  protested  Maynard  chok 
ingly.  "Mine  till  no — !" 

"The  Times  would  be  grateful  for  a  short,  brief, 
signed  description — " 

"Do  open  out  there !"  bleated  the  photographer. 

Matt  rose,  speechless  with  rage,  and,  tearing  him 
self  clear,  strode  to  the  door  and  up  to  his  bedroom. 
Here  with  a  bang  he  locked  himself  in,  the  whole 
pack  pounding  at  his  heels  like  school  boys  after  a 
runaway. 

"I'm  not  a  king,"  he  roared  through  at  them. 
"There's  not  a  word  of  truth  in  that  idiotic  article. 
The  first  fellow  that  breaks  down  my  door  will  get 
his  head  punched !" 

It  was  fully  half  an  hour  before  they  descended, 
disheartened  and  growling,  to  bundle  into  their 
sleighs  and  depart.  "Three  hoots  for  that  damned 
king!"  cried  one  of  them,  trying  to  lead  off,  but  his 

47 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

suggestion  met  with  no  response,  and  the  jingling 
bells  drowned  his  solitary  effort. 

A  little  later  there  was  a  shuffling,  lumbering 
sound  outside  Matt's  door,  and  Hoyt's  husky  voice 
came  through  the  keyhole. 

"Shay,  ole  man,  you  aren't  angry  with  me,  are 
you?  Good  joke,  dresh  it  up  a  bit  and  git  fif  dol- 
larsh!  Didn't  mean  any  harm — shole  and  honor, 
didn't  mean  any  harm.  Great  newspaper  stuff,  shat 
story.  Royal  Broughton  returnsh  to  childhood's 
home,  and  I  got  fif  dollarsh  for  it.  Come  along  and 
painsh  town  red — -come  along,  you  old  stiff!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  VOICE  AT  THE  TELEPHONE 

THE  Manaswan  Banner  printed  the  Clarion  tale 
in  full,  and  by  that  one  issue  lifted  Matt  from 
obscurity  to  local  greatness.  People  stared  at  him 
on  the  street;  children  ran  backward,  pointing  at 
him;  tradesmen  rained  cards;  Matt  could  not  enter 
a  store  but  there  was  a  scurry  to  wait  on  him. 
Denials  were  useless;  the  whole  boarding-house, 
loyally  pledged  to  disseminate  truth  and  radiate  con 
tradiction,  were  forced  to  avow  their  failure.  Price, 
Goldstein  and  Daggancourt  were  brought  into  daily 
contact  with  half  the  population,  yet  the  public  re 
fused  to  be  undeceived.  The  public  did  not  wish 
to  be  corrected.  The  public  wanted  romance,  and 
clung  to  it  with  both  hands,  like  the  overgrown 
baby  it  is;  the  public  would  not  permit  Matt  to  be 
dethroned — even  by  himself. 

Matt's  own  appearance  contributed  not  a  little  to 
the  deception.  Men  who  have  led  adventurous  lives 
on  the  frontiers  of  civilization  usually  get  a  peculiar 
stamp — a  peculiar  and  marked  individuality.  Matt 
was  not  only  good-looking,  but  there  was  something 
unusual,  attractive,  and  even  distinguished  about 
him.  It  was  impossible  for  any  one  to  "place"  Matt ; 

49 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

the  local  Sherlock  Holmeses  were  always  baffled ;  he 
fitted  into  no  class,  and  yet  had  an  "air."  This 
capacity  to  rouse  interest — favorable  interest — is  a 
human  possession  of  great  value.  It  has  also,  of 
course,  its  drawbacks.  When  the  Banner  raised 
Matt  to  kingship  Manaswan  was  thrilled  but  not  al 
together  surprised.  Manaswan  had  long  been  aware 
"that  he  was  somebody  out  of  the  way." 

One  result  of  the  grotesque  fiction  was  to  bring 
Matt  into  contact  with  some  of  the  better  families  of 
the  place.  The  Cleghorns,  the  Randalls,  the  Russells 
and  the  Bucks — all  in  some  manner  or  other  con 
trived  to  scrape  acquaintance  with  him.  These  social 
overtures,  made  first  out  of  sheer  curiosity,  and 
in  most  instances  inspired  by  the  women,  opened 
to  Matt  a  number  of  pleasant,  if  somewhat  stiff 
and  old-fashioned,  households.  And  he  was  led, 
finally,  into  the  extravagance  of  buying  evening 
clothes  and  began  to  cut  a  modest  dash  in  Mana 
swan  society. 

It  wasn't  the  best  society,  however.  There  was  an 
upper  crust  still,  to  which  the  Cleghorns,  the  Ran 
dalls,  the  Russells  and  the  Bucks  were  as  houris 
outside  the  gates.  In  this  higher  realm  were  the 
Marshalls — the  old  general  and  his  daughter — who 
rode  thoroughbred  horses  and  lived  within  a  vast 
park;  the  Derwents,  owners  of  the  shoe  factories; 
the  Bells,  and  others — an  aristocracy  of  wealth,  and 
compactly  exclusive.  The  old  general  had  been 
American  minister  to  half  the  courts  of  Europe  and 

50 


A  VOICE  AT  THE  TELEPHONE 

was  T  jcribed  as  very  "grand."  Lament,  the  mil 
lionaire  wheel-manufacturer,  was  also  very  "grand." 
There  were  also  the  "grand"  Doolittles  and  the 
"grand"  Bells.  When  a  houri  said  "grand,"  the 
superlative  was  reached. 

Matt  enjoyed  the  homespun  gaieties  to  which  he 
was  now  so  often  invited — the  candy-pullings,  the 
parties  where  they  played  games,  the  jolly  sleigh- 
rides  and  suppers.  They  offered  him  a  more  enliven 
ing  companionship  than  he  found  in  the  boarding- 
house,  which  in  contrast  grew  drearier  every  day, 
till  its  fly-specked  walls  took  on  the  aspect  of  a 
morgue.  The  girlish  laughter  was  sweet  to  hear ;  the 
general  cordiality  and  good-will  very  warming — 
though  it  was  all  extraordinarily  strait-laced  in 
some  respects.  Dancing  was  barred;  Cromwell's 
Ironsides  could  not  have  been  more  aggressively 
pious;  nobody  smoked,  nor,  great  heavens,  drank 
"liquor!"  Yet  with  this  there  was  a  freedom  no  less 
extraordinary.  Chaperons  were  unheard  of;  kissing 
was  brisk  and  unashamed;  the  romping  games  ap 
peared  to  Matt  often  very  indecorous.  There  was 
an  Early-Christian  atmosphere  over  the  whole,  a 
simplicity  and  rural  innocence  that  was  as  charming 
as  it  was  trying.  Matt,  in  spite  of  himself,  was  al 
ways  shocking  somebody;  the  fact  of  his  not  being 
a  church-member  was  in  itself  shocking;  his  path 
lay  over  egg-shells,  and  they  were  continually  crack 
ing  beneath  him.  There  loomed  before  him  a  dread 
ed  day,  when  he  should  either  have  to  join  the  Re- 

51 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

formed  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  or  be  cast  bod 
ily  from  the  vineyard. 

Meanwhile,  the  Clarion  story  was  being  carried 
far  and  wide.  It  came  back  to  him  from  every 
where,  tangibly  evident  in  letters.  Every  morning 
there  was  a  substantial  mail,  which  was  at  once  both 
an  exasperation  and  a  delight.  Here  are  a  few  sam 
ples  taken  at  random  from  that  daily  pile  beside  his 
plate : 

"DEAR  SIR  : 

"Having  read  of  you  in  the  Chicago  Record-Her 
ald,  I  respectfully  desire  to  bring  to  your  attention 
our  unrivaled  line  of  diving  and  marine  apparatus, 
which,  if  you  will  kindly  glance  at  the  accompanying 
catalogue — " 

"Matthew  First, 

"HONORED  SIR: 

"Am  a  young  man  in  Boston  Express  Co.,  driving 
delivery  wagon,  but  would  like  to  exchange  into  your 
service,  salary  no  object  if  could  be  captain  of  your 
guard,  or  similar  confidential  position.  When  I 
opened  the  Transcript  and  seen  your  romantic  story 
I  decided  to  apply  right  off — " 

"DEAR  KING  : 

"Noticing  the  account  in  the  New  Orleans  Pic 
ayune,  and  learning  you  intended  to  make  some  stay 
in  this  country  before  returning  to  your  island  home, 
I  thought  perhaps  you  might  care  to  buy  a  36-foot 
power-boat,  only  3  years  old,  hardwood  finish,  nice 
w.  c.,  1 6  h.  p.  Snipkin  engine,  that  I  should  be  glad 
to  sacrifice  at  a  bargain — " 

52 


A  VOICE  AT  THE  TELEPHONE 

"DARLING  MATTHEW  : 

"I  am  only  a  high-school  girl,  but  I  loved  you  the 
moment  I  took  up  the  Deseret  News  and  found  you 
was  looking  for  a  queen.  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  very 
pretty,  but  if  a  loving,  faithful  heart — " 

"Mr.  Matthew  Broughton, 

"DEAR  MR.  BROUGHTON  : 

"May  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  if  you  are  a 
Sun  Worshipper?  Or,  if  this  ideal  religion  has  not 
been  brought  to  your  attention,  could  you  not  at  least 
find  room  on  one  of  your  lovely  isles  for  a  small 
colony  of  S.  W's.,  who  desire  to  discard  their  clothes 
and  attain  that  simplicity  and  beauty  of  existence 
they  find  so  difficult,  nay,  so  hopeless,  here.  We 
number  thirty-two,  mostly  ladies,  and  in  the  hope  of 
a  favorable  answer,  enclose  a  stamped  and  addressed 
envelope.  Yours  in  the  R.  Z., 

"(Miss)  HELEN  DORMER. 

"P.  S. :  We  would  be  very  willing  to  pay  a  small 
rent,  either  in  cash  or  early  vegetables,  or  supply 
one  or  two  of  our  number  in  rotation  as  nurses,  edu 
cators,  etc.,  to  those  noble,  simple  people  who  have 
elevated  you  to  their  throne.  H.  D." 

Matt  made  no  reply  to  any  of  these  epistles.  His 
money  was  ebbing  fast  enough  as  it  was — frighten- 
ingly  fast — and  he  was  in  no  humor  to  squander  any 
of  it  on  useless  stamps  and  note  paper.  The  arrival 
of  spring,  Daggancourt's  lengthening  face,  the  im 
minence  of  the  Reformed  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church — all  hastened  his  resolution  to  leave  Manas- 
wan,  and  pay  a  flying  visit  to  Kentucky  to  spy  out 

53 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

the  land.  The  mules  were  calling,  and  it  was  time 
for  dreams  to  become  realities !  Daggancourt  would 
have  bought  a  pair  in  Manas  wan,  loaded  their  joint 
effects  on  a  wagon,  and  started  off.  But  Matt  was 
not  such  a  burner  of  bridges.  He  would  prudently 
inspect  mule-territory  and  mule-conditions,  and  then 
return  with  well- formulated  mule-plans. 

While  nerving  himself  to  depart,  and  putting  it  off 
from  day  to  day,  on  one  excuse  or  another,  he  wrote 
to  Snood  and  Hargreaves,  the  San  Francisco  jewel 
ers,  saying  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  part  with 
the  ring,  and  requesting  them  to  remit  him  the  four 
thousand,  five  hundred  dollars  by  express,  deduct 
ing  whatever  interest  had  accrued.  It  was  not  with 
out  a  pang  that  he  dropped  this  letter  into  the  box; 
it  marked  the  knell  of  those  easy-going  days  at  Mrs. 
Sattane's;  it  had  now  to  be  mules  in  earnest,  with 
hard  work  and  frugal  living,  and  evening  clothes 
put  away  perhaps  for  ever. 

He  spun  out  his  farewell  calls,  dilly-dallied,  held 
back  all  he  could,  but  at  last  the  inexorable  morn 
ing  arrived.  Daggancourt  was  there  in  an  auto 
mobile;  Matt's  suit-case,  packed  to  bursting,  stood 
ready  on  the  porch,  together  with  a  large  brown 
paper  package  of  the  overflow;  his  pockets  bulged 
with  hard-boiled  eggs  and  sandwiches;  and  never 
was  a  man  more  apparently  destined  for  instant  de 
parture — when  the  telephone  bell  suddenly  rang  and 
Bridget  came  rushing  out  to  say  that  Mr.  Doty 
wanted  Mr.  Broughton  on  the  wire. 

54 


A  VOICE  AT  THE  TELEPHONE 

At  the  moment  it  seemed  an  intolerable  infliction. 
Mr.  Doty  was  the  Reformed  Methodist  Episcopal 
clergyman,  a  mild  creature  of  an  anxious  cordiality, 
whose  acquaintance  with  Matt  was  of  the  slightest. 
Matt  took  up  the  receiver  with  the  intention  of 
making  short  work  of  the  reverend  gentleman,  an 
intention  emphasized  by  the  honk  of  Victor's  horn, 
imperiously  bidding  him  to  hurry. 

"Hello,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Broughton,"  returned  Doty,  "this  is 
just  to  remind  you  of  our  church  social  to-morrow 
night,  tickets  twenty-five  cents,  including  hat  check, 
and  to  say  I  simply  can  not  take  a  refusal.  Please 
tell  me  that  you  will  come." 

"Come!"  cried  Matt.  "Why,  I'm  leaving  this 
minute  for  Kentucky !" 

"Put  it  off,  then,"  protested  Doty.  "I  have  a 
special  reason — a  very  special  reason  for  wishing 
you  to  come.  Indeed,  I  must  make  my  request  im 
perative.  Oh,  Mr.  Broughton,  refuse  me  if  you  like, 
but  do  not  say  no  to  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most 
gracious  of  our  young  patricians." 

"Can't  help  it,"  exclaimed  Matt  curtly.  "Sorry 
to  disappoint  you,  but  really — " 

"Mayn't  I  try  to  persuade  you,  Mr.  Broughton?" 
said  a  new  voice  in  his  ear — a  girlish  voice  with  the 
indescribable  cadence  of  good  breeding.  "I've  been 
counting  so  much  on  meeting  you  to-morrow  night 
— in  fact,  I  only  agreed  to  come  for  that  reason." 

Matt's  own  tone  softened. 

55 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Do  tell  me  who  you  are?"  he  asked.  "I  oughtn't 
even  to  wait  for  that,  but  I'm  too  flattered  not  to." 

"I'm  Miss  Marshall,"  she  replied.  "General  Mar 
shall's  daughter,  you  know — or,  I  suppose  you  don't 
know,  though — " 

"Miss  Marshall !"  cried  Matt,  dazzled  at  the  name. 
"I  had  no  idea  I  was  talking  to  angels  unawares.  Of 
course  I  know  you,  in  a  far-off,  cat-looking-at-king 
sort  of  way.  Who  doesn't !" 

"  I  know  you  better  than  that,"  she  returned  gaily. 
"Let  me  count — yes,  it's  five  times  I've  seen  you, 
and  once  I  was  so  close  to  you  in  the  music-store  that 
I  might  have  touched  you.  I  am  sorry  I  didn't  now 
— hold  out  my  hand,  I  mean — but  it's  a  world  where 
people  are  too  easily  misunderstood,  isn't  it?  And 
here  we  are,  like  ships  that  pass  in  the  night — with 
you  going  to  Kentucky.  Must  you  really  go  to  Ken 
tucky,  Mr.  Broughton?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  have  to." 

"Does  that  mean  you've  found  Manaswan  horri 
bly  dull?  But  of  course  it  does.  People  only  stay 
here  who  have  to — like  barnacles  on  a  rock." 

"I  don't  know — I've  liked  it  well  enough,"  stam 
mered  Matt,  "though  you  make  me  ashamed  to  ad 
mit  it.  I  think  I'm  sorry  to  leave  the  old  place — 
specially  now." 

"To  me  it  seems  deadly,"  continued  the  girl.  "It's 
the  Siberia  of  America  without  the  excitement  of 
chains  or  fresh  prisoners  to  brighten  us  up — not  a 
single  person  of  the  slightest  interest  till  you  ap- 

56 


A  VOICE  AT  THE  TELEPHONE 

peared.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Broughton,  you  express 
the  only  bit  of  romance  that  has  ever  come  our 
way?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  protested  Matt.  "All  I  am  is  an 
other  kind  of  barnacle  from  another  kind  of  rock, 
and  just  as  commonplace  as  the  rest  of  them,  I'm 
afraid." 

"But  even  that  is  so  interesting,"  went  on  Miss 
Marshall  encouragingly.  "A  strange,  remote  bar 
nacle  from  the  South  Pacific — dear  me,  how  per 
fectly  delightful !  Besides,  they  say  you  are  a  king 
out  there." 

"Oh,  Miss  Marshall,  I  am  really  glad  to  go  on 
account  of  all  that  rubbish;  you  can't  imagine  what 
a  bore  it  has  been,  what  a  detestable  mortification. 
I  need  hardly  tell  you  it  is  all  newspaper  stuff — not 
a  word  of  it  that  isn't  a  silly  lie." 

Matt  stopped,  trying  to  nerve  himself  for  an  he 
roic  admission.  Somehow  it  seemed  suddenly  im 
portant  that  he  should  be  honest — that  he  should 
free  himself  from  any  meretricious  glamour. 

"The  prosaic  truth  is  that  I'm  going  to  Kentucky 
to  raise  mules,"  he  added. 

"Mules?" 

"Yes,  mules." 

"But  can't  you  do  that  here?" 

"Well,  you  see,  the  book  says — " 

"The  book?" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  them — so  naturally 
I  bought  a  book." 

57 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

The  merriment  of  the  half -caught  reply  was 
rather  wounding. 

"Oh,  it  is  not  so  absurd  as  it  sounds,"  he  said.  "I 
have  a  sort  of  partner,  too — a  practical  colored 
man." 

"A  practical  colored  man?" 

"Yes,  a  kind  of  Man  Friday  who  has  attached 
himself  to  me.  We  are  going  to  pool  our  money 
and  build  a  log  cabin  in  the  mountains." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  at  the  other  end  of 
the  telephone,  followed  by  suppressed  laughter. 

"That  settles  it,  Mr.  Broughton,  you  simply  must 
come,"  exclaimed  the  young  lady.  "Please  tell  me 
that  you  will." 

Matt  listened  eagerly  as  she  laughed  again,  and 
then  struck  his  flag.  The  sound  of  his  voice  startled 
him  with  its  earnestness. 

"Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  he  said.  "It's  too 
charming  an  invitation  from  too  charming  a  person 
for  me  to  refuse." 

Apparently  Miss  Marshall  was  a  little  taken 
aback;  there  seemed  a  shade  less  cordiality  in  her 
tone  as  she  replied,  "Oh,  if  you  would  much  rather 
not,  you  know — if  it's  inconvenient  or  anything — 
please  don't  let  me  put  you  out." 

"Oh,  but  I'd  love  to  come — really  and  truly  I 
would." 

With  an  even  more  ambiguous,  "Oh,  thanks; 
then  we  will  expect  you,  good-by — "  the  'phone  was 
closed. 


A  VOICE  AT  THE  TELEPHONE 

Poor  Daggancourt  was  terribly  cast  down  at  the 
news  and  expostulated  tremblingly,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes.  He  was  so  humble,  so  quaveringly  re 
strained,  that  his  reproaches  were  harder  to  bear 
than  if  they  had  been  more  outspoken.  Mrs.  Sat- 
tane  and  the  others  were  merely  surprised — very 
much  surprised,  indeed — and  listened  with  the 
greediest  of  ears  and  the  most  evident  incredulity 
to  the  tale  of  a  forgotten  promise  to  Mr.  Doty. 
Hunter  Hoyt,  buzzing  about  tipsily,  was  very 
pleased  to  think  they  were  going  to  keep  their  dear 
old  boys  after  all,  and  made  what  to  Matt  was  a 
very  opportune  diversion  by  falling  off  the  porch. 

In  the  confusion  attending  his  rescue,  and  the  sub 
sequent  examination  of  some  highly-prized  shrubs 
by  Mrs.  Sattane,  and  of  a  highly-prized  leg  by  the 
journalist,  Matt  managed  to  slip  away  without  a  re 
mark,  and  take  the  river  road  to  the  pines.  An  un 
reasoning  elation  possessed  him ;  he  was  eager  to  be 
alone  with  himself  and  dream,  for  had  not  a  lovely 
queen  stooped  to  notice  him,  and  thrown  him  a 
flower  ? 


'59 


CHAPTER  VII 

CHRISTINE  MARSHALL 

IV T EVER  was  a  Saturday  night  more  slow  of  ar- 
•*•  ^  rival,  yet  when  at  last  Matt  stood  at  the  en 
trance  of  the  church,  and  heard  the  babel  of  voices 
within,  he  was  stricken  with  a  sort  of  terror.  He 
entered  guiltily,  and  once  inside  had  a  fresh  spasm 
of  dismay  to  find  he  was  apparently  the  only  man 
there  in  evening  dress.  The  place  was  crowded  and 
hot  and  noisy  and  disconcerting;  committeemen 
with  rosettes  grabbed  his  hand  and  welcomed  him 
as  "brother" ;  excited  young  ladies  surrounded  him, 
holding  up  objects  for  sale,  and  overwhelming  him 
with  saucy  pleasantries;  little  girls,  with  immense 
bows  in  their  hair,  tried  to  drag  him  toward  the 
booths,  of  which  there  was  a  row  on  either  side  of 
the  church,  forming  a  sort  of  street  or  promenade 
between. 

There  was  the  comic  Irish  policeman,  embarrass 
ing  everybody  (as  well  as  himself)  by  arresting  them, 
and  a  comic  judge,  in  false  whiskers,  before  whom 
culprits  were  brought.  Mr.  Price,  in  pink  tights,  was 
exhibiting  Mr.  Goldstein  as  a  performing  bear,  who 
emitted  ferocious  growls  in  a  Jewish  accent ;  spoons 
clattered  on  emptying  saucers;  children,  already 

60 


CHRISTINE  MARSHALL 

speechless  with  ice-cream,  were  forcing  doughnuts, 
pies  and  sugared  waffles  into  bursting  little  bread 
baskets.  Over  all,  here,  there  and  everywhere,  was 
Mr.  Doty,  feverishly  cordial,  perspiringly  gay,  gim- 
leting  his  way  through  the  crush  to  make  sure  that 
every  one  was  having  "a  good  time." 

It  was  all  very  kindly  and  simple  and  good-na 
tured  and  genuine,  and  had  it  not  been  for  a  devour 
ing  suspense,  and  a  restlessness  that  kept  Matt  ever 
on  the  alert,  he  would  have  entered  into  the  affair 
with  his  usual  amiability.  But  at  the  moment  it  was 
maddening.  He  had  to  laugh  and  chatter;  to  eat 
things  he  didn't  want  to  eat;  to  buy  things  he 
didn't  want  to  buy;  to  be  hilarious  when  arrested 
by  the  comic  policeman — infliction  after  infliction  to 
one  whose  heart  was  in  a  tumult,  and  whose  eyes 
were  ever  on  the  watch. 

But  here-there-and-everywhere  Mr.  Doty  was 
more  to  be  trusted  than  Matt  had  thought ;  of  a  sud 
den  he  came  bustling  up  like  a  rushing  little  tug,  tow 
ing  two  statelier  ships.  Bewildering  introductions 
ensued;  Matt  found  himself  shaking  hands  with  an 
imposing  gentleman  with  a  white  mustache;  shak 
ing  hands  with  a  young  lady  in  blue  foulard,  whose 
dark,  soft  glance  lingered  curiously  on  his  own. 
Matt  hardly  knew  whether  she  was  pretty  or  not — 
or  at  least  very  pretty.  His  first  impression  was 
more  of  graciousness,  youth  and  breeding ;  of  rather 
an  impudent  little  mouth,  parting  continually  on 
perfect  teeth;  of  delicately  penciled  eyebrows,  a 

61 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

nose  slightly  aquiline,  and  an  abundance  of  glossy 
hair,  which  under  the  lamplight  appeared  darker 
than  it  really  was. 

"I've  met  a  considerable  number  of  kings  in  my 
time,"  said  the  general  genially,  "but  always  glad 
to  add  another  to  the  list,  you  know.  It's  rather  a  re 
proach  to  us,  I'm  afraid,  that  we  let  the  papers  dis 
cover  you  first." 

"Oh,  those  papers !"  exclaimed  Matt.  "But  really, 
General,  what  is  one  to  do?  I  might  as  well  run 
after  an  express  train  as  try  to  deny  all  that  rub 
bish." 

"Nobody  is  safe  in  this  country,"  agreed  the  gen 
eral  with  great  good-humor.  "You  can  go  to  bed  at 
night  an  honored  citizen,  and  wake  up  in  the  morn 
ing  an  alliterative  outcast — Merciless  Marshall 
Murders  Maid,  or  something  equally  surprising  and 
unpleasant." 

"It's  the  smudgy  pictures  I  hate  most,"  put  in 
Miss  Marshall.  "I've  had  mine  stuck  all  round  with 
little  cupids  shooting  arrows  into  an  unfortunate 
foreign  nobleman." 

"We've  all  been  there,"  said  the  general.  "When 
the  up-to-date  American  stops  a  runaway  or  saves 
a  drowning  lady  he  invariably  gives  a  false  name 
and  address  and  then  scoots  out  of  sight.  The  mod 
ern  boy  on  the  burning  deck  would  never  have  ad 
mitted  to  the  reporters  that  he  was  Casabianca. 
He'd  have  called  himself  Smith  probably  and  in 
sisted  there  wasn't  any  fire !" 

62 


CHRISTINE  MARSHALL 

The  general,  still  laughing  at  his  own  sally,  was 
greeted  and  diverted  by  a  passing  acquaintance,  af 
fording  Matt  the  opportunity  of  asking  Miss  Mar 
shall  if  she  would  not  like  to  make  the  round  of  the 
booths  with  him.  Her  face  showed  her  pleasure  at 
the  proposal,  and  in  her  answering  look,  so  arch  and 
eager,  Matt  seemed  to  read  something  that  made 
him  dizzy.  She  was  more  than  pretty,  she  was  ex 
quisite,  and  the  sudden  realization  of  her  beauty  was 
not  without  a  dart  of  pain.  They  moved  about,  talk 
ing — or  rather  trying  to  talk,  for  the  noise  and  jostle 
caused  constant  interruptions — talking,  and  hoping 
for  chairs,  and  eluding  the  general  like  a  pair  of 
truants,  all  the  while  looking  into  each  other's  eyes 
and  laughing.  But  there  were  no  chairs ;  there  was 
not  an  empty  spot  in  the  whole  church,  except  in  the 
pulpit,  and  that  was  set  inaccessibly  in  mid-air,  like 
a  wooden  lily,  on  a  long,  twisted  stem.  Matt  gazed 
at  it,  much  as  a  castaway  sailor  might  gaze  at  an 
airship — an  unmanned  airship,  drifting  high  above 
his  head.  But  as  he  gazed  his  resolution  grew,  and 
he  announced  it  recklessly. 

"But  they'll  all  see  us!"  cried  Miss  Marshall 
aghast. 

"Only  the  tops  of  our  heads,  and  they  won't  rec 
ognize  us,"  said  Matt. 

"And  Mr.  Doty  will  be  scandalized — everybody 
will." 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  said  Matt.  "It's  the  dickens  to 
stand  up  here,  with  people  digging  into  you  and  pes- 

63 ' 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

tering  you  to  buy  beadwork  pin-cushions  when  you'd 
give  everything  in  the  world  for  a  cozy  talk." 

"A  cozy  talk  would  be  nice,  wouldn't  it  ?  Though 
it  would  take  an  elephant  to  get  through  all — " 

"Come  along,  I'll  be  the  elephant." 

The  pulpit  was  reached  by  a  spiral  stair — or  rather 
could  be  reached  by  pressing  apart  a  stout  lady  gab 
bling  to  another  stout  lady,  sweeping  through  five 
gauzy  little  girls,  and  disturbing  a  mounting  tier  of 
sweethearts,  two  to  a  step.  Had  Matt  not  been  in 
evening  dress  he  would  never  have  succeeded  in 
dislodging  these  lovers,  but  his  swallowtail  was  an 
awe-inspiring  garb  and  bore  with  it  a  mysterious  au 
thority.  Moreover,  with  quick  presence  of  mind  that 
convulsed  his  companion,  Matt  announced  that  he 
was  going  to  give  a  recitation,  which  allayed  resent 
ment  and  filled  every  one  with  delighted  anticipa 
tion.  The  blockade  was  broken,  and  Matt  had  the 
supreme  satisfaction  of  leading  Miss  Marshall  into 
the  pulpit.  He  would  have  put  her  on  the  chair- 
there  was  a  chair — but  she  preferred  the  hassock, 
insisting  at  the  same  time  that  he  should  sit  on  the 
floor.  Here  they  cowered  out  of  view,  trying  to 
restrain  their  laughter. 

"Now  tell  me  about  those  five  times,"  said  Matt. 

"What  five  times?"  inquired  Miss  Marshall,  pro- 
vokingly  insincere,  and  with  that  pretty  parting  of 
her  lips. 

"Oh,  you  know — what  you  said  over  the  'phone." 

"I'd  rather  hear  about  your  first  time." 


Now  tell  me  about  those  iive  times  " 


CHRISTINE  MARSHALL 

'That's  easy.  I  came  here  expecting  to  find  you 
adorable — and  you  are." 

"Men  say  things  like  that  just  as  little  boys  shout 
'Get  a  horse,  get  a  horse!'  when  you're  stuck  in  a 
motor." 

"But  you  really  and  truly  are,  and — " 

"And  what?" 

"In  all  seriousness,  I'm  almost  sorry  I  came." 

"Oh,  dear !  Why  ?  Isn't  the  great,  splendid,  swag 
gering  king  happy  in  his  little  pulpit  ?" 

It  became  Matt  to  look  grave — became  his  strong 
features  and  well-cut  mouth. 

"I  might  like  you  too  well,"  he  said  simply. 

"Would  that  be  so  dreadful?" 

"I'm  afraid  of  life — afraid  of  deep  emotions." 

"But  you've  got  over  them  before?" 

"Not  without  scars." 

"Isn't  that  what  life  is,  Mr.  Broughton?" 

"Getting  hurt  and  getting  mended  ?" 

"No — looking  for  that  other  half  of  one." 

"Have  you  looked  ?" 

Miss  Marshall  nodded  with  an  air  of  great  seri 
ousness.  "I  found  him,  only  he  was  the  wrong  half 
— somebody  else's  half,  you  know — anyway,  not 
mine.  You  mustn't  think  me  altogether  jeune  file. 
I  am  nearly  twenty-three,  and  have  broken  an  en 
gagement." 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  horribly  presumptuous  to 
ask  if  I  have  any  of  'the  other  half  qualities?" 

"Oh,  you  want  to  make  sure  of  a  doughnut  be- 

65 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

fore  trading  in  your  cooky.     My  other  half  could 
never  be  so  cautious." 

"But  you  do  like  me,  don't  you?  You  would 
scarcely  have  telephoned  to  me  like  that  if  you 
hadn't." 

"That's  true;  it  was  perfectly  crazy  of  me,  and 
almost  entitles  you  to  think  everything." 

"Everything?    What's  everything?" 

"That  I  meant  more  than  I  did." 

"What  exactly  did  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  how  you  pin  me  down !  It's  so  impossible  to 
tell  you.  You  never  could  understand." 

"Why  not?  I'm  not  so  conceited  as  that.  I  am 
quite  capable  of  understanding  that  a  woman  might 
like  me  three  cents'  worth,  but  not  a  dollar." 

"It's  that  very  literalness  that  makes  it  so  impos 
sible.  Men — oh,  how  can  I  express  it — men  see 
everything  so  clearly — can  express  everything  in 
different  kinds  of  symbols,  and  chart  them  in  their 
mind,  like  a  barometer  record  or  immigration  statis- . 
tics.  We  are  hazier — more,  more  un formulated — 
all  instinct — with  a  tingle  where  you  have  a  fact." 

"That's  awfully  clever — go  on." 

"Is  it  clever? — you  see,  we're  even  clever  in  the 
same  haphazard  sort  of  way,  and  hardly  know  it 
when  we  are! — You  came  and  I  saw  you,  and 
didn't  think  anything  much  about  it  except  that  you 
stayed  in  my  head.  Stayed  and  stayed,  you  know — 
not  right  out  in  front,  but  in  a  corner,  like  a  hat- 
box  your  maid  has  forgotten  to  take  away.  And 

66 


CHRISTINE  MARSHALL 

every  time  I  saw  you  the  hat-box  grew  bigger  and 
more  worrying,  till  finally — "  She  broke  off  with  a 
smile,  adding  lightly :  "Oh,  well,  there's  your  dough 
nut,  and  now,  please,  I  want  my  cooky." 

"It's  a  darling  little  doughnut,"  said  Matt,  "and 
instead  of  eating  it,  I'm  going  to  put  it  away  in  silver 
paper  and  keep  it  just  to  look  at.  And  as  for  cookies 
— all  I  know  is  that  the  sweetest  voice  in  the  world 
said :  'Come  to  the  church  social  to-morrow  night' — 
and  I  came  to  the  church  social  to-morrow  night, 
where  I  found  the  sweetest  voice  in  the  world  be 
longed  to  the  sweetest  girl  in  the  world,  and  then 
everything  seemed  to  go  round  and  round  till  the 
sweetest  girl  in  the  world,  who  is  also  the  cleverest 
girl  in  the  world,  suddenly  became  the  only  girl  in 
the  world,  and — and — •" 

"Yes,  you'd  better  stop  there,"  said  Miss  Mar 
shall.  "That  isn't  frankness,  that's  conventionality. 
A  second  later  you'll  be  saying,  'Love  me  and  the 
world  is  mine.' ' 

"Would  that  be  so  awfully  silly?"  asked  Matt. 

"Not  only  silly,  but  bromidian." 

"Bromidian?    What's  bromidian?" 

"Repeating  commonplaces,  like  a  parrot." 

"Mayn't  anybody  say  I  like  you  without  being 
called  a  parrot — or  that  bro-name  ?" 

"In  good  society  Mr.  Anybody  never  says  that  to 
Miss  Somebody  after  an  acquaintance  so  very,  very 
brief  as  ours." 

"No  short  cuts  allowed,  is  that  the  idea?" 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Yes." 

"What's  the  most  I  could  be  permitted  to  say, 
then? — worrying?  You  said  worrying,  yourself." 

"It  isn't  quite  fair  to  steal  my  word." 

"How  clever  one  has  to  be — to  like  you.  One 
mustn't  say  this;  one  mustn't  say  that;  it's  like  a 
complicated  game,  and  terribly  beyond  a  poor  sailor 
like  myself.  You  must  forgive  me  for  being  blun 
dering  and  stupid.  I  hardly  know  anything  about 
young  white  ladies." 

Miss  Marshall  laughed  outright  at  being  thus  de 
scribed.  "I  never  thought  of  myself  as  a  young 
white  lady,"  she  said,  much  entertained.  "It  sounds 
as  funny  to  me  as  though  you  called  me  a  young 
pink  lady,  or  a  young  blue  lady.  Oh,  dear,"  she 
went  on  softly,  "I  don't  want  to  be  too  hard  on  my 
poor  sailor,  who's  awfully  nice  and  winning,  even  if 
he  is  stupid,  and  doesn't  know  the  right  word. — 
Let's  just  admit  that  I  like  you  and  that  you  like  me 
— and  that  perhaps  in  some  queer  way  it  was  all  in 
evitable." 

This  unexpected  admission  made  Matt's  heart 
leap;  again  there  was  that  dart  of  pain,  that  sense  of 
overwhelming  and  somehow  elusive  happiness.  The 
fragrance  of  that  enchanting  young  womanhood  was 
in  his  brain;  the  rounded  contours,  the  swell  of  the 
girlish  bosom,  even  the  small  foot  with  its  peep  of 
stocking — all  intoxicated  him  with  the  magic  and 
ecstasy  of  sex.  For  a  while  he  remained  silent,  as 
though  under  a  spell  he  was  loath  to  break.  "I  don't 

68 


CHRISTINE  MARSHALL 

believe  I  can  laugh  any  more,"  he  said  at  last,  look 
ing  up  strangely  at  his  companion.  "I  don't  believe 
I  can  even  go  on  talking  as  we  have  done.  I  would 
like  to  go  away  as  I  did  yesterday,  and  think,  and 
think,  and  think." 

He  feared  a  light  retort — a  word  that  might  shat 
ter  the  whole  fabric  of  his  fancy.  But  their  accord 
was  too  subtle  for  such  a  blasphemy. 

"That's  what  I  did,  too,"  she  returned,  in  a  voice 
that  was  almost  a  whisper.  "When  great  things 
happen,  one  wishes  to  be  alone,  doesn't  one  ?" 

"Tell  me  your  name,"  he  said,  still  in  that  wonder 
ing  tone.  "It's  incredible,  but  I  do  not  know  it." 

"Christine — though  they  call  me  Chris — always 
call  me  Chris." 

"And  mine's  such  a  horrid  one — Matthew — and 
it's  always  Matt,  you  know,  which  is  even  worse." 

"I  like  it.  Matt  and  Chris— it  sounds  old-fash 
ioned,  doesn't  it,  like  one's  Mayflower  ancestors. 
And  ye  aforesaid  Matthew  was  a  young  man  of 
noble  presence,  and  of  signal  worth  and  understand 
ing,  withal  sober  and  upstanding  in  the  fear  of  God, 
ye  whilk  of  all  ye  Pilgrim  maids  he  chose  one  Chris 
tine  Marshall,  avowing  for  her — " 

"Go  on — don't  stop  there." 

But  she  did  stop  there,  looking  down  at  him  with 
eyes  like  stars,  all  wonder  and  tenderness  and  shin 
ing  girl-light,  with  just  a  quiver  of  the  pretty  mouth. 

Alas  for  the  lie  that  came  back  to  roost,  accom 
panied  by  a  peremptory  knocking  on  the  pulpit  pan- 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

els,  and  the  apparition  of  a  very  impatient  young 
man  in  a  high  collar. 

"Say,  brother,  ain't  you  ever  going  to  give  us  that 
there  recitation?" 

"It  has  been  unavoidably  postponed,"  said  Matt 
brazenly,  rising,  as  Miss  Marshall  did  the  same.  He 
pleaded  with  her  to  remain  a  little  longer,  but  she 
would  not.  It  seemed  that  by  this  time  the  general 
would  be  as  a  roaring  lion,  and  prudence  dictated  a 
return.  They  found  him,  not  exactly  roaring,  but 
certainly  fretful,  not  to  say  crusty,  and  his  recog 
nition  of  Matt  was  of  the  scantiest. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  let's  get  out  of  this  place," 
he  said,  smothering  an  expletive.  "You  might 
have  had  some  thought  of  the  horses  even  if  you 
hadn't  for  me.  Come  along." 

"Oh,  papa,  wait;  I've  invited  Mr.  Broughton  to 
have  tea  with  us  to-morrow — about  four ;"  then  she 
added  to  Matt  hurriedly,  "Please  come,  won't  you  ?" 

"Shall  look  forward  to  it,"  snapped  the  general, 
with  the  manner  of  a  person  temporarily  blocked 
in  a  burning  building.  "Good  night,  good  night!" 
And  with  that,  and  the  pressure  of  a  slender,  gloved 
hand,  Matt  was  left  alone — more  alone,  so  it  seemed 
to  him,  than  he  had  ever  been  before  in  his  life. 


70 


CHAPTER   VIII 

HEART  BREAK  HILL 

HE  rose  the  next  day  a  very  different  man  from 
the  night  before.  A  pitiless  consideration  of 
his  circumstances,  begun  at  dawn,  and  carried  to 
the  bath  hour,  had  shown  him  facts  as  they  were — 
the  dismalest  facts  imaginable,  and  as  gray  as  the 
first  peep  of  that  gray  morning.  Who  was  he,  to 
be  calling  on  aristocratic  young  ladies  and  whisper 
ing  things  in  pretty  pink  ears?  He  whose  fortune 
amounted  to  less  than  four  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars,  and  who  had  need  to  strive  very  energetic 
ally  to  keep  his  own  somewhat  large  and  red  ears 
above  the  engulfing  waters.  His  business  was  in 
dubitably  mules — not  to  linger  in  fools'  paradises, 
waste  money  and  time,  and  drift  into  the  most 
heartbreaking  of  false  positions. 

He  tried  to  put  that  sparkling  face  out  of  his 
mind ;  tried  not  to  linger  on  those  girlish  admissions 
that  made  his  pulses  beat;  called  himself,  oh,  so 
many  times,  a  fool — a  crazy,  silly  fool — and  vowed 
all  sorts  of  tremendous  things.  He  would  excuse 
himself  from  that  tea ;  would  leave  the  next  day  for 
Kentucky;  would  get  back  to  dry  land  and  mules 

71 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  sanity.  But  he  did  not  wish  to  appear  rude; 
he  would  hate  to  have  his  action  misconstrued;  he 
would  go  at  four,  after  all,  and  if  the  occasion  pre 
sented  itself  would  tell  her  the  truth  quite  frankly 
— that  he  had  hardly  any  money,  no  profession,  and 
a  long,  uphill  fight  in  front  of  him.  Though  how 
idiotic  he  was  to  take  it  all  seriously — himself  and 
her  and  the  whole  affair — as  though  it  were  any 
more  than  a  passing  flirtation.  It  was  just  the  in 
curable  way  he  had  of  exaggerating  everything — of 
making  mountains  out  of  molehills.  He  laughed  at 
himself  a  little  forlornly.  What  an  ass  he  was,  to 
be  sure!  What  an  ass! 

After  breakfast  he  made  it  up  handsomely  with 
Daggancourt,  expatiating  on  mules  with  much  ardor 
and  enthusiasm,  and  gradually  recovering  the  mu 
latto's  sorely  shaken  confidence.  It  seemed  that 
Victor  had  not  slept  all  night,  so  distressed  had  he 
been  at  Matt's  indecision.  He  spoke  of  it  quaver- 
ingly,  like  a  father  to  a  wayward  son,  his  face  yel 
lower  than  ever,  and  puckered  with  chagrin.  He 
said  that  no  one,  even  with  mules,  could  go  very 
far  without  "concentration  of  purpose.'5  He  re 
peated  the  phrase  several  times,  always  with  the 
same  note  of  timid  warning.  Matt  apologized,  ex 
plained,  and  promised  to  "concentrate."  Victor  was 
perfectly  right!  Mules  first,  and  not  another  side 
step  off  the  track.  He  proved  his  sincerity  by 
promising  to  leave  for  Kentucky  on  the  morrow. 
They  shook  hands  on  it,  then  and  there,  in  front  of 

72 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

Buggins ;  and  any  lurking  grudge  that  Victor  might 
still  have  felt  disappeared  in  that  hearty  clasp.  But 
there  was  still  a  weight  on  the  mulatto's  mind.  He 
stammered  out  something  about  the  San  Francisco 
money — hoped  that  it  was  all  right — hoped  that  it 
had  come. 

"Excuse  my  mentioning  it,"  he  said.  "But  you 
know,  we'll  be  needing  it  pretty  soon,  and  I'd  rather 
not  sell  the  garage  till — " 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  returned  Matt.  "It  ought 
to  be  coming  along  soon,  and  if  it  doesn't  I'll  tele 
graph.  Don't  you  worry  about  that,"  he  added  re 
assuringly.  "It's  one  of  those  splendid  jewelry 
stores  with  diamond  necklaces  in  the  window,  and 
is  good  for  a  hundred  times  the  money." 

But  Victor's  concern  remained;  he  had  kept  bet 
ter  tally  on  the  dates  than  Matt;  it  was  exactly 
twenty-four  days  since  the  latter  had  written — a 
long  while,  surely.  Victor  asked  for  the  receipt,  and 
examined  it  closely.  "That's  all  right  as  far  as  it 
goes,"  he  said,  handing  it  back  with  a  relieved  ex 
pression,  "though  they  don't  have  to  buy  the  ring 
if  they  don't  want  to,  or  change  their  minds." 

"If  people  like  Snood  and  Hargreaves  offered  fif 
ty-five  hundred  dollars  for  the  ring,  it's  pretty  sure 
to  be  worth  it,"  replied  Matt.  "Even  if  they  backed 
out,  we  could  sell  it  somewhere  else." 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  said  Victor,  recovering  his 
cheerfulness,  "and  maybe  for  a  better  price,  con 
sidering  you  took  the  first  bid  they  made.  Depend 

73 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

upon  it,  you  could  have  raised  them  a  few  hundred 
dollars." 

They  lingered  a  while  longer,  talking  about  the 
three  hundred  dollars  commission  Victor  hoped  to 
get  on  a  second-hand  car,  and  as  to  the  advisability 
of  taking  sixteen  hundred  dollars  cash  for  the  ga 
rage,  or  a  thousand  down,  and  another  thousand 
on  a  nine-months  note.  They  also  touched  on  the 
often-debated  and  never-solved  question  of  a  genu 
ine,  pedigreed  Fison  jackass.  This  dazzling  animal 
was  capable  of  absorbing  three-quarters  of  their 
capital,  and  would  be,  if  he  lived,  a  four-legged 
gold  mine.  His  value,  dead,  was  precisely  seventy- 
five  cents.  No  wonder  the  partners  were  harassed, 
blew  this  way  and  that,  one  minute  the  imaginary 
possessors  of  a  genuine,  pedigreed  Fison  jackass,  and 
another  forswearing  him  as  an  unattainable  luxury 
and  the  embodiment  of  carking  care.  Victor  went 
back  to  work,  leaving  the  perpetual  problem  still  un 
solved,  while  Matt,  with  nothing  in  his  head  but 
mules,  walked  up  and  down  the  porch,  raising  more. 

Perhaps  he  kept  closer  to  the  veranda  that  morn 
ing  than  usual,  for  it  was  warm  and  sunny,  and 
likely  to  tempt  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Sattane  with 
her  rocking-chair,  her  darning,  and  her  interminable 
tongue.  For  once  Matt  was  eager  for  Mrs.  Sat 
tane,  and  when  at  length  she  appeared  he  was 
very  agreeable  and  friendly,  drawing  up  beside  her, 
with  his  pipe,  instead  of  dropping  off  the  end  rail, 
as  he  ordinarily  would  have  done.  After  a  few 

74 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

false  starts  he  got  her  on  the  subject  of  the  Mar- 
shalls,  and  though  as  a  narrator  she  was  as  uncer 
tain  as  a  rabbit,  and  apt  to  give  conversational 
jumps  in  the  most  random  directions,  Matt  always 
contrived  to  bring  her  back,  and  running  again  in 
the  way  he  would  have  her  go. 

The  general,  when  a  young  cavalry  officer,  hardly 
indeed  more  than  a  boy,  had  made  a  runaway  match 
with  a  Miss  Koenig,  of  Philadelphia,  who  was  so 
rich  that  people  used  to  call  her  Miss  Kilmansegg. 
He  had  thereupon  given  up  the  army,  and  taken  to 
law  instead,  and  from  law  had  graduated  into  poli 
tics  and  Congress.  After  seven  or  eight  years  his 
wife  had  died,  leaving  him  with  two  little  boys, 
who  were  now  middle-aged  men,  one  a  traveler  and 
writer  of  some  reputation,  and  the  other,  an  iron 
master  on  the  lakes,  with  a  railroad  of  his  own 
and  fleets  of  ships.  The  general  had  taken  his  be 
reavement  terribly  to  heart,  and  for  a  while  went 
all  to  pieces,  until  his  friends  made  interest  for  him, 
and  had  him  appointed  minister  to  some  far-away 
and  insignificant  post,  more  with  the  idea  of  bene 
fiting  him  by  the  change  of  scene  than  launching 
him  into  what  was  to  be  a  distinguished  career.  He 
rose  rapidly ;  was  constantly  promoted,  and  was  one 
of  the  first  American  ambassadors,  when  that  grade 
was  inaugurated  by  President  McKinley. 

In  the  meanwhile  he  had  married  again,  losing  his 
second  wife  many  years  later  in  a  carnage  acci 
dent.  His  daughter,  Christine,  had  narrowly 

75 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

escaped  the  same  fate,  and  for  several  years  had 
been  a  helpless  invalid,  nobody  ever  thinking  she 
would  be  well  again.  But  at  last  she  recovered,  and 
was  as  strong  as  most  girls,  or  stronger,  to  judge 
from  the  daring  way  she  rode  and  her  much-talked- 
of  flights  on  skis. 

On  the  Spanish  War  breaking  out,  Marshall  had 
thrown  diplomacy  to  the  winds,  and  returned  to 
Connecticut  to  help  organize  the  state's  quota  for 
the  national  defense,  receiving  his  commission  as  a 
brigadier-general  of  volunteers,  and  earning  much 
local  renown  by  his  energy  and  patriotism.  It  was 
not  his  fault  that  the  enrolled  citizens  never  saw  a 
Spaniard,  or  burned  anything  more  deadly  than 
mosquito  powder.  The  picnic  stage  was  hardly  past 
before  the  war  was  over  and  the  general  reap- 
pointed  to  his  former  post.  Since  then  he  had 
definitely  retired,  more  on  his  daughter's  account 
than  his  own,  it  was  said,  to  let  her  see  something 
of  her  own  people,  and  marry  in  her  own  land,  his 
regard  for  courts  and  court  life  being  none  of  the 
best. 

He  kept  up  three  establishments — one  in  Wash 
ington,  another  at  Bar  Harbor,  and  the  third,  his 
big,  comfortable  old  colonial  house  at  Fair  Oaks, 
about  four  miles  out  of  Manaswan — moving  from 
one  to  another  as  the  humor  seized  him.  Fair  Oaks 
was  his  favorite,  as  he  had  owned  it  ever  since  his 
first  marriage,  and  had  never  closed  it,  partly 
from  sentiment  and  partly  from  the  political  advan- 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

tage  of  preserving  a  roof-tree  in  his  native  state. 
He  was  a  Connecticut  man,  and  there  was  the  proof 
of  it  for  all  to  see. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Mrs.  Sattane  said 
all  this  as  concisely  as  it  is  written.  The  reader  is 
presented  with  the  maple-sugar  of  the  matter,  in 
one  nice,  fat  brick,  and  has  been  spared  all  the  pre 
liminary  boiling  and  steaming  and  skimming  and 
bubbling  and  frantic  running  to  and  fro  with  fresh 
buckets  of  the  thinnest  of  thin  juice — not  to  speak 
of  extraneous  efforts  and  excitements  that  had 
nothing  to  do  with  sugar  at  all. 

Nor  are  Bridget's  interruptions  included ;  nor  the 
staggering  intrusion  of  Hunter  Hoyt;  nor  the  gen 
eral  fuss  and  cackling  attending  Miss  Gibbs'  depar 
ture  with  Buggins ;  nor  the  arrival  of  an  entrancing 
stranger,  ostensibly  in  search  of  board,  who  subse 
quently  took  on  the  horrid  hue  of  a  book  agent,  with 
Somebody's  History  of  the  World  in  nine  subscrip 
tion  volumes;  nor  a  tramp,  who  hung  gloomily 
over  the  fence  and  speculated  aloud  whether  a  pore 
man  might  even  ask  for  a  glass  of  water  without 
having  the  dorg  set  on  him — and  who  departed  with 
a  pie,  a  turkey  drumstick,  a  loaf  of  bread,  and,  also, 
as  it  seemed  afterward,  a  coil  of  garden  hose — 
though  where  he  hid  it,  or  how  absorbed  it,  remained 
as  impenetrable  a  mystery  as  that  of  the  Man  in  the 
Iron  Mask. 

It  was  a  very  dragging  afternoon  for  Matt;  he 
was  restless,  could  settle  to  nothing,  was  both  stirred 

77 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  depressed  at  the  prospect  of  his  call  at  Fair 
Oaks.  He  had  dressed  with  such  care  that  he  was 
afraid;  to  sit  down;  or  to  leave  the  porch  lest  his 
immaculate  shoes  might  suffer;  and  was  horribly 
conscious  of  the  crinkling  nature  of  his  fresh  white 
waistcoat.  No  girl  could  have  been  in  more  of  a 
tremor.  Periodically  he  went  up-stairs  to  look  at 
himself  in  the  glass — to  make  sure  there  was  not 
a  hair  on  the  neck  of  his  coat — to  brush  and  brush, 
and  worry  again  that  his  hands  were  so  large  and 
so  sunburned. 

He  had  ordered  a  buggy  for  half-past  three,  a 
buggy  and  a  man  to  drive  it,  for  he  meant  to  take 
no  chances  of  missing  his  road.  It  came  too  early, 
and  caused  him  renewed  agitation  in  consequence — 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  too  early,  when,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  would  not  dare  to  start  before  the  half- 
hour — giving  him  a  whole  fifteen  minutes,  there 
fore,  to  be  dawdled  through,  with  more  crinkling 
of  white  waistcoat,  and  more  risk  to  shoes,  and  a 
whole  new  access  of  that  suffocating  feeling,  which 
he  supposed  to  be  pleasure,  but  was  in  reality  much 
nearer  agony. 

Punctually  to  the  minute  he  took  his  seat  in  the 
buggy  and  was  just  starting,  when  of  a  sudden  he 
was  hailed  from  behind.  The  driver  pulled  up,  and 
Matt  turned  to  see  an  oldish  man  in  a  silk  hat,  still 
breathless  from  running,  who  had  evidently  been 
exerting  himself  to  overtake  them. 

"Hold  on  there!"  he  exclaimed,  "hold  on— stop!" 
78 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

and  relaxing  his  pace,  came  up  slowly  on  Matt's 
side,  and  steadied  himself  a  moment  with  his  hand 
on  the  wheel.  He  was  an  important-looking  per 
sonage,  with  a  crisp,  gray,  pointed  beard  and  heavy- 
lidded,  penetrating  eyes.  His  subdued  yet  fault 
less  costume  suggested  a  judge  or  a  banker,  or  some 
one  of  equal  standing — certainly  not  one  who  was 
accustomed  to  run  or  shout  upon  the  public  high 
way,  or  to  hold  on  to  buggy  wheels  to  recover  his 
breath. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  in  a  decisive,  ar 
resting  sort  of  voice,  "I  am  looking  for  a  gentleman 
named  Broughton — Mr.  Matthew  Broughton — and 
as  you  somewhat  conform  to  his  description,  and 
were  driving  from  the  house  to  which  I  was  di 
rected — " 

"I  am  Mr.  Broughton,"  interrupted  Matt,  sur 
prised,  a  trifle  alarmed,  and  most  of  all  impatient. 
"What  do  you  want?"  The  memory  of  the  en 
trancing  book  agent  tinged  his  tone  with  a  certain 
belligerency.  Was  this  another  manifestation  of  the 
History  of  the  World  in  nine  subscription  volumes? 

"I've  come  a  long  way,  and  on  very  hurried  no 
tice,  to  have  an  interview  with  you,"  explained  the 
stranger,  gazing  at  him  fixedly,  "a  very  important 
interview,  indeed,  and  you  will  oblige  me  greatly  by 
postponing  this  little  excursion  of  yours,  and  afford 
ing  me  your  undivided  attention  for  half  an  hour. 
In  private,"  he  added,  with  a  glance  at  Matt's  com 
panion  ;  "I  can  not  be  more  explicit  here." 

79 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"I  am  sorry,  but  it'll  have  to  wait,"  said  Matt. 
"I  haven't  a  minute  to  spare.  Please  let  go  my 
wheel." 

"But  it  can't  wait!"  exclaimed  the  stranger  with 
indignant  animation.  "You  do  not  realize  what 
you're  saying,  or  the  issue  there  is  at  stake.  I  sim 
ply  must  insist,  Mr.  Broughton — yes,  sir,  I  must 
insist." 

"So  must  I,"  returned  Matt  angrily.  "Tell  me 
what  you  want  in  two  words,  and  I'll  give  you  an 
answer  in  one — and  let  go  my  wheel." 

Matt  fully  thought  the  stranger  would  take  fire 
at  this,  but  he  did  not.  Instead,  anxiety  spread  over 
his  upturned  face. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?"  he  asked. 

"A  short  drive — to  pay  a  call." 

"Then  let  me  take  his  place,"  pleaded  the  stran 
ger,  indicating  the  driver.  "We  can  talk  on  the 
way — and  on  the  way  back.  For  God's  sake,  young 
man,  don't  go  on  thwarting  me  like  this!  I  can't 
tell  you  how  pressing  it  all  is,  how  peremptory  and 
urgent.  Only  half  an  hour — if  you  knew  what  was 
at  stake,  you  could  not  refuse  half  an  hour." 

Matt  was  thunderstruck;  such  importunity  was 
startling;  yet  he  had  not  a  moment  to  spare  if  he 
were  to  be  on  time  at  Fair  Oaks.  Nothing  should 
come  between  him  and  Fair  Oaks;  and  the  delay 
already  incurred  put  him  in  a  fever.  "Go  on,"  he 
cried  to  the  driver,  and  with  that  the  expostulating 
gentleman  was  deserted — in  the  middle  of  the  road, 

80 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

with  his  message  still  unsaid,  and  his  anus  waving 
madly  after  the  retreating  carriage. 

Matt  was  very  much  thrilled  and  tantalized,  but 
at  last  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  been  mis 
taken  for  some  one  else.  Nobody  could  want  to  see 
him  on  a  matter  so  secret  that  it  could  not  be  di 
vulged  except  in  private.  Though  possibly — and 
here  was  an  idea — he  was  again  the  victim  of  those 
newspaper  lies,  the  "kanaka  king"  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  Yes,  this  was  the  explanation;  the  man  was 
a  Sun  Worshipper,  or  some  kindred  lunatic,  with 
one  of  those  hare-brained  projects  that  rained  down 
with  every  mail.  How  foolish  he  had  been  not  to 
think  of  that  before — to  have  allowed  himself  the 
least  curiosity  about  the  man,  whom  he  contemptu 
ously  put  out  of  his  mind  and  settled  back  to  dream 
of  Miss  Marshall  with  mingled  torment  and  joy. 

They  passed  through  a  stone  gateway  of  a  mas 
sive  and  towering  design  that  reared  its  head  like 
a  mausoleum  in  the  lonely  woods.  The  winding 
road  led  through  more,  and  was  so  narrow  that  the 
trees  met  overhead  and  the  air  turned  chill  in  the 
defile  below.  It  was  a  very  big  place,  the  driver 
said — miles  and  miles  of  it,  and  he  flicked  his  whip 
in  the  direction  of  unintelligible  local  landmarks. 
It  hadn't  been  worth  taxes  till  the  wood-pulp  busi 
ness  began,  and  now  even  the  stumpage  would  bring 
ten  dollars  an  acre.  "A  stroke  of  luck  for  the  gen 
eral,  wasn't  it,  what  with  pulp  getting  dearer  every 
day — though,  he  just  let  it  lie  like  it  was,  and  did 

81 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

nothing.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  dollars  in 
wood-pulp  and  stumpage,  and  as  good  as  money  in 
the  bank." 

Matt  suffered  under  these  reflections;  it  made 
him  feel  more  of  an  intruder  than  ever,  poorer  and 
of  less  account.  Who  was  he  to  be  driving  through 
such  unnumbered  acres  of  wood-pulp  and  daring 
to  lift  his  eyes,  however  timidly,  to  its  owner's 
daughter?  It  emphasized  his  presumption,  and 
every  tree  became  a  new  barrier,  abhorrent  to  look 
upon.  It  was  in  a  very  crushed  humor,  indeed,  that 
he  approached  the  lawns  and  shrubberies,  the  tor 
tuous  brick  walks,  and  at  last  the  house  itself — a 
stately  old  colonial  structure,  with  that  dignified 
frontage  of  classic  white  columns  so  dear  to  our 
forefathers,  and  so  expressive  of  their  lives  and 
aspirations. 

Matt  descended,  dismissed  the  conveyance  with 
the  thrifty  intention  of  walking  home,  and  turned 
to  mount  the  wide,  high  steps.  He  was  greeted  at 
the  top  by  Miss  Marshall,  who  seemed  to  spring  up 
from  nowhere,  smiling  and  radiant,  and  bewitching 
to  look  at  in  her  boyish  riding  costume.  Her  father 
and  she  had  just  got  back — and  oh,  so  afraid  that 
he  might  have  been  made  to  wait — papa  having  met 
a  long-lost  lovely  friend  in  a  teuf-teuf  and  a  tiger 
coat,  and  wanting  to  remain  the  rest  of  the  week  to 
talk  to  her.  But  they  must  go  right  in,  or  papa 
would  be  at  the  muffins  and  disgracing  himself. 
Papa  was  terribly  elemental  about  muffins. 

82 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

Amidst  this  laughing  cordiality  Matt  found  him 
self  being  guided  through  a  lofty  hallway,  lined 
with  books  and  engravings,  to  a  large,  low-ceilinged 
room,  where  the  general,  also  in  riding  dress,  was 
standing  before  a  log  fire,  and  refraining  in  the 
most  exemplary  manner  from  any  premature  on 
slaught  on  the  tea-table.  This  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  it  stood  temptingly  near  by,  gleaming  with  old 
silver,  and  set  about  with  red  roses. 

The  breath  of  out-of-doors  was  still  on  the  gen 
eral;  like  his  daughter,  he  was  glowing  from  his 
ride,  and  had  a  fresh,  vigorous  appearance.  He 
welcomed  Matt  with  a  charming  courtesy  in 
which  there  was  not  a  shade  of  condescension, 
and  his  shrewd,  strong,  ruddy  face  lit  up  de 
lightfully  as  his  daughter  bantered  him  about 
the  tiger-skin  lady.  Even  at  sixty-six  the  general 
had  not  outgrown  his  attractiveness,  nor  the  desire 
— and  ability — to  please.  Somehow,  though  they 
were  worlds  apart,  Matt  was  reminded  of  John 
Mort  and  Mirovna — the  same  ease,  the  same  grace, 
the  same  distinction  animated  father  and  daughter, 
lifting  them  above  all  other  people  he  had  ever 
known. 

Yet  what  were  his  sensations  as  he  sat  beside 
Miss  Marshall  on  the  sofa,  balancing  a  tea-cup  on 
his  knee,  and  stealing  little  sideways  looks  at  her? 
The  dismalest  imaginable,  it  must  be  confessed. 
She  was  prettier  than  he  had  remembered  her — 
maddeningly  pretty,  and  every  mark  of  her  consid- 

83 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

eration  came  as  a  fresh  stab,  as  a  fresh  realization 
of  the  gulf  between  them. 

He  was  constrained ;  he  knew  he  was  not  appear 
ing  at  his  best;  he  seemed  to  feel  her  artifices  to 
draw  him  out,  to  overcome  his  awkwardness,  to  dis 
play  him  to  some  advantage  before  her  father.  But 
those  old,  profound  eyes  were  not  to  be  deceived, 
and  had  the  look  of  wondering  at  her  trouble.  An 
ex-ambassador  could  read  a  young  man  like  a  book 
— even  while  eating  muffins  and  joking  about  tiger- 
skin  ladies  in  teuf-teufs.  It  appeared  that  a  teuf- 
teuf  was  an  automobile.  Matt's  ignorance  of  the 
word  seemed  to  stamp  him  as  a  boor.  What  a  mis 
fortune,  he  had  never  heard  of  it  before !  He  made 
an  anxious  note  of  it  for  future  occasions,  and  then 
it  came  over  him  with  despair  that  there  would  be 
no  future  occasions.  He  would  never  see  Christine 
Marshall  again.  Thus  altogether  daunted  and  de 
pressed,  how  hard  it  was  to  affect  liveliness,  to  talk 
about  the  Islands,  to  try  to  hide  that  grinding  sense 
of  failure. 

He  hoped  afterward  that  he  had  not  talked  too 
much  about  the  Islands.  It  was  all  he  knew  to  talk 
about.  Cannibals,  fighting,  pearl-diving,  and  the 
shuddering,  bloody  business  of  the  bark  Moroa — 
things  that  people  usually  liked  to  hear,  espe 
cially  from  a  survivor  of  the  last.  The  general, 
with  a  big  laugh,  called  him  Captain  Othello — a 
sally  that  induced  Chris  to  repeat,  with  a  whim 
sical  acceptance  that  made  Matt's  heart  beat :  "That 

84 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

it  was  strange,  most  passing  strange;  'twas  pitiful, 
'twas  wondrous  pitiful" — causing  him  to  flush  and 
feel  very  self-conscious,  indeed,  though  thrilled,  too, 
as  those  fine  eyes  turned  on  him  so  kindly  and  with 
such  smiling  significance.  How  little  she  realized 
their  havoc  on  a  poor  devil  who,  then  and  there, 
could  have  knelt  down  and  kissed  the  hem  of  her 
skirt,  with  such  reverence  and  adoration  that  it 
would  have  been  an  added  rapture  to  include  a  pair 
of  trim,  small  riding  boots  as  well  and  the  very  bit 
of  carpet  on  which  they  stood.  These  thoughts, 
however,  were  not  good  for  sustained  and  conven 
tional  conversation.  Such  as  it  was,  it  languished 
terribly  at  times,  and  the  general's  mouth  could  be 
seen  to  purse  under  his  mustache,  as  though  conceal 
ing — yes — a  yawn !  Captain  Othello  grew  bluer  and, 
bluer,  and  more  abstracted  and  constrained,  until 
finally  an  unmistakable  yawn  brought  him  to  his 
feet. 

The  end  had  come ;  he  was  holding  out  his  hand  ; 
he  was  saying  good-by;  all  was  over  and  for  ever. 
No,  not  quite  for  ever!  Learning  that  he  had  sent 
away  his  buggy,  Miss  Marshall  offered  to  walk  with 
him  as  far  as  the  tennis  courts.  She  volunteered 
this  in  spite  of  rather  a  sharp  look  from  her  father, 
and  a  request  that  had  the  quality  of  a  command, 
not  to  stay  out  too  long. 

Side  by  side,  Matt  and  she  walked  together,  both 
silent  till  the  house  was  left  behind. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Miss  Marshall  asked  at 
85 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

last.  "You've  been  so  different  to-day — so  changed. 
I  couldn't  make  it  out,  and,  and — " 

"And  what?"  inquired  Matt  somberly. 

"It  hurt  me  a  little.  I  thought  you  might  be  glad 
— glad  to  come,  you  know." 

"I  was  glad  to  come." 

"Poor  fellow — I  suppose  you  have  to  say  that." 

"I  knew  I  was  dull  and  disappointing,  and  the 
more  I  tried  the  duller  I  got,  and — that's  it,  if  you 
want  to  know." 

She  moved  closer  to  him,  and  announced,  with  a 
shade  of  relief  in  her  voice,  that  he  was  a  very  fool 
ish  person.  He  hadn't  been  a  bit  dull,  nor  disap 
pointing — the  idea!  But  did  not  seem  himself,  that 
was  all,  and  mopy.  Dreadfully  mopy. 

"It's  because  I'm  going  away  to-morrow,"  he 
said.  "Because" — and  he  faltered  at  anything  so 
outright — "because  I'll  never  see  you  again." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"You  mustn't,"  she  murmured  at  last.  "I  don't 
want  you  to  go  away." 

"But  I  have  to." 

"Oh,  you  have  to  ?"  she  repeated  questioningly. 

"To  do  things — to  start  in  seriously."  He  could 
not  say  mules.  Mules  stuck  in  his  throat. 

"But  how  does  that  mean  never  seeing  me  again  ? 
That's  what  you  said,  wasn't  it?" 

"It's  hard  to  explain;  you  wouldn't  understand." 

"No,  I  don't  suppose  I  would,"  she  assented.  "I 
was  foolish  enough  to  think  that  you — that  you — " 

86 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

"That  I  loved  you?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,  not  that — that  would  be  absurd — " 

"But  I  do/' 

He  walked  along,  grimly,  stiffly,  in  a  fury  with 
everything.  "That's  why  I  was  on  such  pins  and 
needles  up  there,"  he  broke  out  passionately.  "I 
had  no  right  there,  and  I  knew  it ;  every  look  at  you 
drove  it  home — the  utter  hopelessness  of  it.  I  have 
to  go  away  with  the  few  thousands  I  have  and  try 
to  do  something — work — earn  money.  But  if  I 
succeeded  beyond  all  my  expectations  you  would  be 
as  inaccessible  as  ever — as  unattainable.  I  am  noth 
ing — nobody — the  dirt  under  your  feet.  You  won 
der  why  I  was  so  dull,  so  stupid — I  was  grinding  to 
pieces,  if  you  want  to  know,  yes,  grinding  to  pieces, 
and  almost  hating  you!" 

"If  I  felt  like  that  about  anybody,  I'd  stay,"  she 
exclaimed  breathlessly.  "I  wouldn't  give  anybody 
else  a  chance.  I  think  if  I  really  loved  anybody  I 
would  kill  them  first." 

Matt  turned  and  caught  her  squarely  by  the 
shoulders,  those  slender,  girlish  shoulders,  and  held 
her  out  at  arm's  length  in  a  vise.  "You  would, 
would  you  ?"  he  cried.  "Don't  tempt  me,  or  I  will ! 
I  give  you  your  choice.  I  told  you  I  would  go.  It's 
for  you  to  choose,  the  one  way  or  the  other.  Choose, 
choose!" 

But  his  revulsion  was  as  swift  as  his  act.  He  let 
her  go,  stricken  at  her  pallor,  her  gasp  of  pain — 
appalled,  and  incoherently  remorseful.  He  smoothed 

8? 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

her  dress  with  his  big  hands ;  he  was  a  brute,  a  crazy 
brute,  he  quavered  convulsively ;  he  saw  her  through 
a  blur,  trembling,  swaying,  obstinately  averting  her 
eyes,  and  giving  them  little  dabs  with  her  handker 
chief.  As  she  recovered  he  waited  for  his  sentence, 
his  doom.  He  had  transgressed  the  last  law,  and 
might  be  thankful  if  she  even  spoke  to  him  again. 
Perhaps  she  would  turn  away  without  a  word,  and 
that  would  be  the  end. 

When  she  did  speak  it  was  not  to  annihilate  him  at 
all.  It  was  all  her  own  fault,  she  said,  tremulously 
smiling.  "That's  what  always  happened  when  you 
goaded  elemental  people — great,  big,  rough,  ele 
mental  people.  They  grabbed  you  in  their  great, 
big,  rough,  elemental  way  and  shook  the  curl  out  of 
your  hair,  wanting  you  to  choose.  As  though  any 
body  could  choose  while  being  shaken  like  a  rat! 
And  what  was  she  to  choose,  anyhow?  Would  he 
please  to  tell  her,  like  an  ordinary,  grown-up,  unele- 
mental  person?" 

Matt  was  more  abashed  than  if  the  heavens  had 
opened  with  thunderbolts.  He  had  expected  thun 
derbolts,  and  in  a  sort  of  way  had  braced  himself  to 
receive  them;  but  he  had  no  armor  against  these 
teasing  shafts.  He  colored  to  the  ears,  and  was 
acutely  embarrassed,  wincing  at  every  allusion  to  his 
outrageous  conduct.  She  seemed  to  enjoy  making 
him  wince — found  a  wicked  zest  in  it.  Everything 
he  said  was  gently  ridiculed.  That  he  should  be  in 
love  with  her  was  apparently  the  most  ridiculous 

88 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

thing  of  all.  She  referred  to  his  word  "choose," 
and  tangled  up  all  his  blurting  explanations. 

"Men  are  all  egoists,"  she  said  cruelly,  "and  the 
contempt  you  have  for  us  is  really  disheartening. 
To  you,  we're  all  little  ninnies,  without  the  least  will 
of  our  own — just  laid  out  on  the  sideboard  like 
prizes  at  a  bridge  party.  It  has  never  dawned  on  you 
that  I  have  any  courage,  any  individuality — now, 
has  it?" 

Matt  vehemently  protested  that  she  had  both — lots 
of  both — till  he  was  abruptly  cut  short. 

"No,  no,"  she  said.  "To  you,  I'm  just  a  charming 
little  drawing-room  ornament,  sparkling  in  the  fire 
light; — just  a  dear  little  noodle  that  you'd  like 
to  put  in  a  crate  and  take  home  with  you — and 
you're  horribly  miserable  because  you  can't  and 
somebody  else  may — noodle  having  no  voice  in 
the  matter  at  all,  only  rather  hoping  that  the  crate 
will  be  padded  with  pink  silk — that  being  the  limit  of 
her  poor  little  noodle  intelligence.  The  last  thing  to 
occur  to  you  is  that  I'm  a  woman,  with  a  head  of 
my  own  and  a  heart  of  my  own,  able  to  take  my 
place  at  a  man's  side,  and  work  and  fight  with  him." 

She  stopped,  flushing  and  overcome.  "That's 
what  I  meant  when  I  said  you  mustn't  go,"  she 
added  piteously.  "Can't  you  see?" 

Matt  was  less  backward  than  stunned.  He  must 
have  misunderstood ;  he  could  not  believe  it.  It  was 
only  when  her  hands  went  to  her  face  and  her  head 
bowed  in  an  extremity  of  shame  that  comprehension 

89 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

really  flashed  on  him.  He  pulled  away  her  hands, 
incredulous  still,  yet  mad  with  joy — pulled  them 
away  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips,  her  burning,  averted 
lips — again  and  again  and  again,  insatiable  of  her 
young  beauty,  and  inflamed  by  a  resistance  that  was 
no  resistance  at  all,  but  the  panting,  shaking  and  al 
most  terrified  surrender  of  a  woman  to  the  man  she 
loved. 

"I  hold  you  to  it,"  he  whispered.  "I  hold  you  to 
every  word  you  said.  I  love  you,  and  you  love  me, 
and  nothing  on  earth  shall  ever  separate  us !"  Then, 
obeying  her  stifled  entreaty,  he  released  her,  and  the 
pair  gazed  at  each  other  in  the  deepening  dusk,  awed, 
struck  to  silence,  and  somehow  at  one  with  the  trees, 
the  sky,  and  all  nature  of  which  they,  too,  were  one, 
and  at  whose  altar  they  vowed  themselves  to  each 
other  and  received  the  benison  of  the  stars. 

Matt  would  have  clasped  her  again  in  his  arms, 
but  she  gently  resisted.  He  was  to  go,  she  said.  Had 
he  not  taken  enough  already  ?  Was  she  not  so  spent 
that  to  take  more  would  kill  her?  Besides,  she 
wished  to  be  alone — to  nestle  to  her  heart  the  sweet 
est  moment  of  her  life,  without  even  that  great  big 
him  to  disturb  her.  He  was  such  a  disturber!  He 
would  kiss  her  again  and  she  would  lose  all  the 
others — those  precious  first  ones  that  would  always 
be  the  dearest.  No,  he  was  to  go.  Please,  he  was  to 
go.  Please,  it  was  a  favor. 

He  perceived  that  she  was  in  earnest,  and  some 
thing  told  him,  moreover,  that  she  was  with  difficulty 

90 


HEART  BREAK  HILL 

holding  back  her  tears — those  tears  which  it  would 
be  a  sacrilege  for  him  to  share.  So,  manfully,  and 
with  a  quickening  perception,  he  made  no  further 
demur,  but  turned  and  left  her,  looking  back  once  to 
wave  his  hand,  and  to  take  one  last  look. 

But  she  loved  him.  That  was  all  his  dizzy  head 
could  hold.  She  loved  him.  Christine  Marshall 
loved  him.  She  was  willing  to  strip  herself  of 
everything  to  follow  him  the  wide  world  over. 
Yes,  men  were  egoists- — blind,  stupid  egoists, 
measuring  women's  love  by  their  own.  No  won 
der  the  Bible  said  "passing  the  love  of  women." 
The  old  fellow  who  wrote  that  three  thousand 
years  ago  could  think  of  no  better  superlative. 
"Passing  the  love  of  women !"  Up  to  yesterday  that 
old  fellow  had  known  more  than  he  did.  Yesterday 
he  hadn't  known  anything — he  had  acquiesced  miser 
ably  in  what  he  thought  was  the  inevitable.  He  had 
sat  there  that  afternoon  like  a  death's  head,  till  even 
the  general,  inured  to  boredom,  had  yawned;  and 
all  the  while  she  had  loved  him — Chris  had  loved 
him!  Nothing  could  matter  now,  nothing  could 
hurt  him.  Chris  loved  him ! 


91 


CHAPTER  IX 

MR.  KAY  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF 

HE  had  completely  forgotten  the  frockcoat  per 
son,  he  of  the  silk  hat,  and  subdued  masterful 
ness,  who  had  clung  to  his  front  wheel  with  agitated 
pertinacity  hardly  three  hours  before.  Matt  was 
reminded  of  his  existence  by  finding  him  on  Mrs. 
Sattane's  front  porch,  wearily  blocking  the  road  to 
supper.  By  all  rights  the  stranger  should  have  been 
excessively  annoyed,  but  on  the  contrary  he  was 
suavity  itself,  rising  at  Matt's  approach,  and  greet 
ing  him  with  formidable  politeness. 

Might  he  take  the  liberty  of  repeating  his  request 
to  see  Mr.  Broughton  in  private  ?  Might  he,  without 
undue  insistence,  remind  Mr.  Broughton  of  the  very 
serious  issues  at  stake,  and  the  need — the  very  great 
need — of  expedition?  The  heavy-lidded  eyes  were 
full  of  insistence;  the  pointed  grey  beard  waggled 
like  a  goat's — a  tired  but  pertinacious  goat,  with 
yellow  teeth  and  a  cavernous  way  of  talking,  till  you 
could  see  all  the  way  down  his  throat.  He  brushed 
aside  the  invitation  to  supper,  saying,  in  an  injured 
tone,  that  he  must  beg  Mr.  Broughton's  considera 
tion.  After  three  hours  of  waiting  was  he  not  en 
titled  to  an  immediate  interview — an  immediate 

92 


MR.  KAY  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF 

interview  in  private?  No,  it  need  not  be  long.  In 
some  aspects  it  was  a  very  simple  affair — la  proposal 
on  the  part  of  certain  principals — an  acceptance — er 
— it  was  to  be  hoped — on  Mr.  Broughton's. 

Apologizing  for  having  no  better  place  to  offer, 
Matt  led  the  stranger  up-stairs  to  his  bedroom, 
where,  after  lighting  the  single  gas-jet,  he  offered 
him  a  chair,  and  himself  took  a  seat  on  the  bed. 

"Now,  what's  your  name?"  asked  Matt,  lighting 
his  pipe  and  throwing  out  his  long  legs. 

The  stranger,  somewhat  stammeringly,  replied 
that  he  might  be  called  Mr.  Kay.  Though  whether 
he  meant  K-a-y  or  merely  the  letter  K  was  left 
obscure. 

"Well,  Mr.  Kay,"  continued  Matt,  "let's  get  one 
thing  understood  right  off.  I  am  not  a  kanaka  king, 
and  I  haven't  any  islands,  or  money,  or  subjects,  or 
fleets,  or  pearling  beds,  or  anything.  If  you  have  the 
least  misconception  of  that  kind  about  me,  the 
sooner  you  get  rid  of  it  the  better." 

"You  refer  doubtless  to  those  newspaper  ac 
counts  ?"  inquired  the  stranger. 

Matt  nodded. 

"Yes,  all  that  rot,"  he  said. 

"I'm  familiar  with  them,"  observed  the  stranger, 
drawing  up  close  to  the  bed.  "Perhaps  I'm  also 
more  familiar  with  the  actual  facts  than  you  will 
credit.  Circumstances  have  forced  me  to  acquaint 
myself  with  them — to  separate  the  wheat  from  the 
chaff.  From  a  vast  deal  of  chaff,"  he  added  un- 

93 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

bendingly.  ''Well,  well,  now  to  business."  With  that 
he  produced  from  his  pocket  a  small,  flat  object 
wrapped  in  tissue  paper.  Divesting  it  of  its  cover 
ing,  he  passed  a  little  ivory  miniature  to  Matt.  "Do 
you  happen  to  recognize  that  person  ?"  he  asked. 

Matt  took  it  with  surprise,  for  it  was  rimmed  with 
diamonds,  and  backed  with  gold  like  an  unwieldy 
brooch — with  a  surprise  that  changed  to  consterna 
tion  as  he  beheld  the  unmistakable  face  of  John 
Mort.  It  was  a  face  younger  by  twenty  years  than 
the  John  Mort  he  had  known,  smoother  and  more 
rounded,  and  with  the  hair  altogether  black ;  a  flat 
tering  picture,  much  too  pink  and  prettified  and 
youthfully  handsome  for  even  the  original  at  the  age 
it  represented  him.  But  it  was  John  Mort,  just  the 
same;  he  could  have  picked  it  out  of  a  roomful  of 
miniatures — a  whole  gallery ;  John  Mort,  staring  up 
at  him  from  a  circlet  of  diamonds,  with  an  imperious 
air  that  somehow  had  been  caught  while  all  the  rest 
was  falsified  by  the  obsequious  artist. 

Chills  ran  down  Matt's  back ;  it  was  as  though  he 
were  detected  in  a  crime;  he  was  thankful  for  the 
poor  light  that  must  have  screened  his  expression  of 
dismay.  For  all  Mort's  warnings  were  now  upon 
him  in  a  torrent — and  his  own  promises,  his  own 
pledged  word.  Here  was  what  John  Mort  had  feared 
— "the  wolves"  he  had  called  them — in  a  voice  he 
had  lowered  even  there,  apprehensive  still  on  that 
lost  reef,  in  those  lost  and  lonely  seas.  The  heavy- 
lidded  eyes  took  on  a  new  and  ominous  significance, 

94 


MR.  KAY  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF 

as  Matt  felt  their  glance  on  him.  What  evil  were 
they  meditating?  What  was  their  sinister  purpose  in 
seeking  him  out  to  betray  his  friend? 

He  returned  the  miniature,  speaking  as  he  did 
so  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth — a  subterfuge  he  had 
found  useful  before,  especially  when  under  fire — 
real  fire — bullets.  It  is  the  mouth  that  tells  secrets, 
and  that  in  other  ways  than  words.  A  pipe  is  a 
help.  It  hides  agitation,  and  suggests  unconcern. 

"Well,  what  about  it?"  said  Matt  through  his 
teeth. 

"I  asked  if  you  recognized  him?" 

"Seen  this  person  before,  dc  you  mean?  No,  I 
don't  know  who  he  is.  Why,  do  you  expect  me  to  ?" 

The  stranger  was  not  at  all  nonplussed.  It  was 
disconcerting  how  coolly  he  took  the  announce 
ment.  He  carefully  replaced  the  miniature  in  his 
pocket,  remarking  that  it  was  "a  pity." 

"I've  something  here  that  may  freshen  your  rec 
ollection,"  he  went  on,  producing  a  wallet,  and 
from  the  wallet  a  thick  roll  of  notes.  Pulling  up 
his  chair  so  close  to  the  bed  that  his  knees  touched  it, 
he  began  to  spread  greenbacks  on  the  coverlet  as 
though  engaged  in  a  singular  game  of  patience.  A 
row  of  six,  another  row  of  six,  a  third  row  of  six, 
and  Matt,  amazed,  perceived  that  they  were  in  de 
nominations  of  one  thousand  dollars  each. 

"My  God!"  he  cried.    "What  are  you— a  mint?" 

The  stranger,  with  a  gleam  of  yellow  teeth,  and 
the  first  smile  he  had  permitted  himself,  completed 

95 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

a  fourth  row  from  a  packet  that  was  yet  far  from 
exhausted.  Then  he  stopped,  and  said:  "No,  not 
a  mint.  Merely  a  person  who  seeks  a  little  informa 
tion,  and  is  very  willing  to  pay  for  it." 

Matt  eyed  the  seried  notes;  $1,000,  $1,000, 
$1,000  in  a  green  and  overwhelming  profusion; 
$1,000,  $1,000,  $1,000  up  and  down,  with  more 
tightly  clasped  in  those  stubby  fingers.  If  anything, 
the  sight  stimulated  all  the  obstinacy  in  him,  en 
hancing  his  loyalty  and  determination  in  proportion 
to  the  bribe.  But  it  would  not  do  to  affect  uncon 
cern;  it  would  be  bad  policy  to  convey  the  im 
pression  that  he  could  talk  if  he  would.  Excited 
innocence  was  the  part  that  he  ought  to  play — eager, 
covetous,  astounded  innocence. 

"Twenty- four  thousand  dollars!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Would  you  really  give  me  that  for  recognizing  a 
man?  Just  for  looking  at  his  picture,  and  saying: 
That's  Walter  Jones,  or  William  Riley?  Why, 
bless  you,  I'd  do  it  for  a  quarter  of  that — for  a 
single  one!"  He  picked  up  one  of  the  greenbacks 
as  he  spoke,  and  smoothed  it  out  lovingly  on  his 
knee.  "Even  that  would  be  enormous,"  he  said. 
"People  aren't  paid  for  that  kind  of  thing." 

"They  will  be  in  this  instance,"  returned  Mr. 
Kay.  "We  are  desirous  of  finding — er — Walter 
Jones,  and  are  willing  to  go  to  considerable  lengths 
for  any  information  regarding  him,  and  his  present 
whereabouts.  That  money  there,  Mr.  Broughton, 
is  but  the  half  of  what  I'm  authorized  to  offer  you. 


MR.  KAY  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF 

Think  it  over  a  bit,  Mr.  Broughton.  Fifty  thousand 
dollars  for  five  minutes  of — sincerity."  He  shot 
the  last  word  at  Matt  with  a  snap.  Matt  was  an  ir 
ritating  obstacle  to  a  wolf  in  a  hurry,  to  an  elderly, 
tired  wolf  who  had  already  wasted  so  much  of  his 
time — valuable  wolf -time — on  Mrs.  Sattane's  front 
porch. 

"My  dear  man,"  observed  Matt,  "why  not  make 
it  fifty  millions  while  you  are  about  it?  I  haven't 
the  faintest  notion  whom  your  picture  represents — 
not  tha  slightest,  believe  me.  I  wouldn't  know  him 
from  Adam,  if  he  came  in  this  minute." 

"Is  that  your  last  word  ?" 

"It's  all  I  know,  if  that's  what  you  mean." 

"Oh,  come,  come;  what's  the  use  of  denying  you 
could  tell  if  you  wanted  to.  I'm  not  a  child  to  be 
hoodwinked.  There  isn't  a  visit  of  yours  to  Sydney 
or  San  Francisco  that  we  haven't  traced.  You  were 
no  trader — you  were  in  the  employ  of — well — that 
individual  we  are  seeking.  You  have  to  admit  it — 
and  once  admitted  we  have  a  basis  for  negotia 
tions." 

Matt  puffed  at  his  pipe,  and  finally  remarked  that 
it  was  all  Greek  to  him. 

"The  ship  was  Tembinok's,"  he  went  on,  "old 
Tembinok's,  the  king  of  Apemama,  you  know,  and 
he  sent  me  off  in  her  originally  to  buy  rifles  at  some 
thing  like  a  white  price.  But  I  was  honest  with  him, 
and  made  her  pay — carrying  coprah,  shell  and  that 
— and  so  he  kept  me  on  till  I  lost  her  this  winter." 

97 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Mr.  Kay  gathered  up  his  notes  and  returned 
them  to  his  wallet. 

"Think  it  over,"  he  said.  "Fifty  thousand  dol 
lars  is  a  lot  to  lose.  Perhaps  it  may  occur  to  you 
that  you're  acting  rather  precipitately,  for,  after  all, 
a  man's  first  duty  is  to  himself,  and  you  scarcely 
seem  to  be  in — er — very  affluent  circumstances.  If 
you  should  care  to  place  a  small  flag  in  your  win 
dow — a  tie,  for  that  matter,  or  any  bright  bit  of 
color — we  shall  accept  it  as  a  sign  that  you  have — 
er — changed  your  mind.  Don't  forget  that,  will 
you?  It  is  quite  conceivable  that  the  sum  might  be 
increased  if  we  were  assured  of  your  active  coop 
eration,  but  it  would  be  superfluous  to  go  into  that 
at  this  stage.  Just  a  little  flag  at  your  window,  and 
within  six  hours  I  shall  be  promptly  at  your  serv 
ice." 

Matt  burst  out  laughing.  "Is  that  your  usual 
method  of  communication?"  he  asked.  "But  why 
not  a  skyrocket  while  you  are  about  it,  or  a  blue 
light,  and  masks  of  course — and  a  password.  I'll 
say  Walter,  and  you  answer  Jones,  or  perhaps  a  sin 
gle  mysterious  word,  like  gurgle.  Gurgle's  rather 
good — how  do  you  like  gurgle?" 

The  other's  face  darkened  at  this  derision. 
When  he  spoke  it  was  with  perceptible  humiliation 
and  embarrassment.  "I'm  only  an  agent,"  he  mur 
mured.  "Such  theatrics  are  none  of  my  making, 
though  in  this  affair  they  seem  unavoidable.  Laugh 
all  you  like,  Mr.  Broughton ;  a  man  who  has  thrown 

98 


MR.  KAY  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF 

away  a  fortune  for  a  whim  is  entitled  to,  though 
some  day  when  you're,  older  and  learn  how  hard  a 
world  this  is,  it  may  seem  considerably  less  humor 
ous.  Good  night,"  he  continued,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"Permit  me  to  apologize  for  my  persistence,  and 
to  thank  you  for  your  good-nature  under  the  inflic 
tion.  You  will  let  me  hear  from  you,  will  you  not? 
And  remember  that  the  amount  might  be  materially 
increased.  Good  night,  good  night !" 

Matt  accompanied  him  down  the  stairs  and  to  the 
front  door,  where,  with  a  renewed  grasp  of  the 
hand  and  another  cordial  farewell,  the  stranger 
walked  briskly  away.  It  almost  looked  as  though 
an  automobile  had  been  awaiting  him,  for  a  second 
later  there  was  a  clash  of  gears,  a  flood  of  blinding- 
light,  and  a  magnificent  limousine  swept  headlong 
into  the  night. 

Matt  turned  indoors  again,  eager  for  his  delayed 
supper,  and  in  a  state  of  extreme  perplexity  and  ex 
hilaration.  It  was  not  everybody  who  would  have 
refused  fifty  thousand  dollars.  The  fact  that  he 
had  done  so  put  him  in  a  glow  of  self-esteem. 
Though  why  had  it  been  offered  ? — good  God,  why  ? 
And  who  was  John  Mort,  and  what  could  they  pos 
sibly  want  of  him?  How  strange  it  all  was,  how  in 
soluble  !  And  strangest  of  all  that  he,  Matt,  the  ob 
scurest  of  mortals,  should  be  caught  up  in  anything 
that  could  conceivably  "shake  the  world."  That 
was  what  Mort  had  said — "it  would  shake  the 
world." 

99 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Well,  it  shouldn't  shake  if  he  could  help  it ;  he  was 
loyal  through  and  through ;  the  "wolves"  were  chas 
ing  the  wrong  sleigh  if  they  thought  they  could  get 
a  bite  out  of  him.  He  was  wolf-proof;  thousand- 
dollar-bill  proof,  and  they  might  hang  about  till 
their  legs  dropped  off  before  they  would  see  the 
tiniest  speck  of  that  flag — only  curtains  instead,  no- 
surrender  white  curtains,  defiantly  announcing  that 
there  was  a  man  inside — not  a  Judas. 


100 


CHAPTER  X 

MR.   KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

THE  next  morning  turned  out  a  veritable 
Black  Monday.  Not  only  was  it  raining  a 
sleety,  dismal  rain — Matt  could  have  endured  that 
— but  he  was  assailed,  besides,  by  a  succession  of  dis 
asters.  First  of  all  there  was  no  letter  from  Snood 
and  Hargreaves;  somehow  he  had  fully  counted  on 
getting  it,  and  the  firm's  delay  in  writing  began  to 
take  on  an  ominous  aspect.  With  scarcely  eighty 
dollars  in  his  pocket,  and  part  of  that  owing  here 
and  there,  he  felt  uncomfortably  pressed  for  money. 
Then  there  was  Daggancourt,  whom  he  had  com 
pletely  forgotten  in  the  flow  of  larger  events — Dag 
gancourt,  effusively  expectant  of  that  immediate 
departure  for  Kentucky.  To  make  a  man  weep  is 
a  painful  experience — and  it  was  in  this  manner 
Daggancourt  received  the  news  of  a  second  post 
ponement.  His  grizzled  head  sank,  and  the  tears 
ran  through  the  gnarled  and  wrinkled  hands  he 
raised  to  hide  them.  In  vain  Matt  explained  and 
expostulated,  promised  and  protested.  The  old 
mulatto  was  disillusioned;  his  shoulders  heaved; 
he  brokenly  repelled  all  consolation. 

"I'd  set  my  foolish  old  heart  on  it,"  he  sobbed. 
101 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"I  believed  you  were  in  earnest.    It's — it's  a  terri 
ble  WQW,"  : 

v  -"But -it's  only  put  off  a  little  while,"  said  Matt. 
' :  ;,*  *  /<jFaf  heaven's  sake,  don't  think  I've  given  it  up, 
Victor!    In  fact,  it's  more  of  a  life  and  death  thing 
to  me  now  than  ever  before." 

Daggancourt  shook  his  head. 

"I  was  willing  to  go  my  last  dollar,"  he  said.  "I 
could  have  worked  for  you  with  both  hands,  and 
starved  and  stinted — not  for  the  money  in  it, 
Marse'  Broughton — but  because  you  are  you;  be 
cause  it  is  the  colored  man's  instinct — his  curse — to 
love  and  serve  a  master.  I  made  a  god  of  you,  and 
put  you  on  a  pedestal,  and  all  the  reward  I  looked 
for  was  the  humblest  of  places  near  you,  and  that 
little  farm  of  ours  in  the  mountains.  And  now  I 
see  it  was  all  a  dream — that  you  were  fooling  me. 
Yes,  sir,  and  fooling  yourself,  and  it  was  nothing 
but  talk  after  all,  and  scrawling  sheets  of  paper,  like 
a  child  with  a  toy.  Say  no  more,  sir.  I  shall  not 
trouble  you  again.  I  am  like  the  Psalmist  who  put 
his  trust  in  princes,  and  verily  was  he  disappointed." 

Matt  was  conscience-stricken;  he  had  leaned  on 
Victor;  he  had  found  comfort  and  a  sense  of  safety 
in  the  old  fellow's  rugged  affection.  It  was  hard  to 
see  it  go,  and  it  appeared  doubly  valuable,  now  that 
it  was  lost.  It  was  with  a  very  bereft  feeling,  in 
deed,  that  he  saw  the  mulatto  strike  out  into  the 
rain,  and  raise  the  gampiest  of  gamps  above  his 
alienated  head. 

1 02 


MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

Then  another  disaster!  Goldstein,  confound 
him,  had  developed  mumps,  and  had  planted  himself 
for  the  day  near  the  telephone  with  a  copy  of  Lu- 
cile.  With  the  whole  house  to  choose  from,  there 
was  Goldy  at  the  telephone,  swollenly  ready  for 
every  word  that  he  could  catch.  Matt,  burning  to 
reach  Chris  over  the  wire  and  arrange  somehow  to 
see  her,  or  at  least  to  hear  her  bubbling  voice,  saw 
his  way  blocked  by  that  grinning  obstacle.  To  share 
that  precious  talk  with  Goldstein  was  an  impossi 
bility.  Even  the  mention  of  Chris'  name  would 
throw  the  creature  into  a  paroxysm  of  curiosity. 
It  was  a  great  name  in  Manaswan ;  the  very  apex  of 
everything  exclusive  and  aristocratic;  one  might  as 
well  shoot  off  a  pistol  at  Goldstein's  ear.  So  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  brave  the  sleety  rain  out 
side  and  seek  the  booth  at  the  candy  store.  On  the 
road  thither  Matt  stopped  at  the  Western  Union  to 
telegraph  to  Snood  and  Hargreaves.  Their  back 
wardness  was  becoming  intolerable. 

"Snood  and  Hargreaves,  314  Kearney  Street,  San 

Francisco : 

"Please  give  immediate  effect  to  my  letter,  and 
remit  money  for  ring  by  express.  Telegraph  reply, 
saying  when  I  may  expect  to  receive  it. 

"MATTHEW  BROUGHTON." 

When  this  was  accomplished,  he  encountered  the 
concluding  disaster  of  that  whole  disastrous  morn 
ing.  His  request  to  speak  to  Miss  Marshall  was  re- 

103 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

ceived  by  a  maid,  who  said  that  her  mistress  was  ill, 
and  could  not  come  down.  Nor  could  a  message  be 
carried  to  her  because  she  was  asleep.  One  might  be 
left,  however.  Did  the  gentleman  wish  to  leave  one? 

Matt,  wretchedly  perturbed,  was  almost  at  a  loss 
how  to  answer.  Ill — my  God,  ill !  The  freezing  rain 
outside  was  no  colder  than  the  chill  that  struck 
against  his  heart.  Urged  to  haste  he  could  think  of 
nothing  else  than  that  Miss  Marshall  was  to  be  in 
formed  that  he  had  rung  her  up.  "Broughton,  not 
Button — B-r-o-u-g-h-t-o-n — and  please  tell  her  I 
shall  call  this  afternoon  in  the  hope  of  seeing  her, 
and  perhaps  take  her  for  a  drive  if  the  weather 
clears  and  she  is  well  enough."  The  maid's  tone  in 
dicated  how  little  she  anticipated  either  contingency. 
Then  she  cut  him  off  with :  'Til  tell  her  you  were 
asking  for  her,  and  will  call  at  three.  Good-by." 

At  three  he  was  at  Fair  Oaks  in  a  worse  down 
pour  than  ever,  only  to  find  himself  rebuffed.  Half 
soaked,  he  stood  on  the  threshold  and  was  told  that 
Miss  Marshall  could  see  no  one,  and  that  the  doctor 
had  given  her  some  sleeping  stuff.  The  general,  too, 
had  intrenched  himself  against  callers.  Again  Matt 
was  asked  for  a  message.  He  cursed  himself  for  not 
having  written  a  note  beforehand  and  brought  it 
with  him — that  he  had  wasted  his  time  like  a  fool, 
playing  pinochle  with  Goldstein.  Wet  as  he  was  he 
did  not  dare  to  ask  to  be  admitted  and  given  pen  and 
ink.  All  that  he  could  say,  therefore,  was  that  he 
was  very  sorry  to  hear  that  Miss  Marshall  was  ill, 

104 


MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

and  would  they  please  tell  her  so.  He  fumbled  for 
his  cards.  By  George,  he  could  write  something  on 
a  card,  even  if  it  were  only  "heartbroken."  He  re 
peated  "heartbroken"  to  himself  again  as  he  dived 
into  one  pocket  after  another  before  those  super 
cilious,  patiently  waiting  eyes.  But  he  had  no  cards. 
Oh,  hell,  he  had  forgotten  his  cards!  He  faltered, 
then  descended  the  steps;  climbed  into  his  buggy, 
and  drove  off,  sick  with  despair. 

Splashing  along  the  muddy  road  he  wondered  at 
himself  for  refusing  that  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
With  the  money  they  had  offered  him  Chris,  for 
was  not  this  what  it  amounted  to  ?  With  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars  in  his  pocket  he  might  go  up  to  that  big 
house  and  take  her  bodily  away;  marry  her;  have 
her  for  his  very  own. 

Ninety-nine  men  out  of  a  hundred  would  have 
taken  the  money — would  have  jumped  at  it.  Fifty 
thousand  dollars !  It  might  be  years  before  he  would 
be  worth  a  quarter  as  much.  And  here  he  was 
throwing  it  out  of  the  window  like  a  quixotic  fool. 
It  was  not  that  he  was  tempted,  for  all  he  longed 
and  hungered  for  it.  It  was  more  that  he  marveled 
at  his  own  inability  to  be  tempted.  It  made  him 
understand  how  little  people  ought  to  be  praised  for 
their  good  actions — it  was  a  sort  of  ethical  revela 
tion.  It  was  not  in  him  to  betray  John  Mort.  It  was 
simply  that  he  was  incapable  of  it.  He  almost  wished 
that  he  was  not.  It  was  not  principle  nor  religion, 
nor  anything — but  a  fact.  He  himself  was  quite 

105 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

helpless;  volition  lay  altogether  beyond  him;  it  was 
something  he  could  not  do,  that  was  all. 

At  home  there  was  a  telegram  awaiting  him.  It 
lay  on  the  sitting-room  table  in  state,  so  to  speak, 
like  a  corpse — surrounded  by  a  death-watch  consist 
ing  of  Goldstein,  Mrs.  Sattane  and  Hunter  Hoyt. 
A  telegram  was  unheard  of  in  that  house.  The 
death-watch  had  been  holding  it  up  to  the  window 
and  trying  to  read  through  it.  It  was  all  out  of  con 
cern  for  Matt,  of  course — to  be  helpful  in  his  trou 
ble,  and  perhaps  break  the  bad  news  gently.  The 
bad  news,  however,  refused  to  divulge  itself  even 
against  the  gas-jet,  so  the  death-watch  could  do 
nothing  but  palpitate  and  hope  for  the  worst. 

Matt  tore  it  open,  and  indeed  rewarded  them  by 
the  change  in  his  countenance.  He  was  terribly  up 
set  ;  he  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes ;  the  words,  in 
their  blue  typing,  swam  before  him. 

"Matthew  Broughton,  care  Mrs.  Sattane,  Manaswan, 

Conn. : 

"Experts  pronounce  ruby  flawed  and  worth  five 
hundred  dollars  only.  Firm  faces  substantial  loss 
on  advance  already  made.  If  accrued  interest  be  not 
promptly  paid,  shall  dispose  of  ring  at  end  of  statu 
tory  period.  Telegraph  instructions. 

"SNOOD  AND  HARGREAVES." 

He  crammed  it  in  his  pocket  and  stumbled  up 
stairs;  he  could  not  encounter  those  prying  looks, 
which  at  such  a  moment  were  intolerable.  It  was  a 

1 06 


MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

blow  to  make  any  man  stagger ;  defenseless,  his  first 
instinct  was  to  hide.  An  extreme  emotion  exposes 
one  naked  to  the  world,  which  gawks  and  chatters 
and  points  its  excited  fingers.  Matt  locked  the  door, 
and  with  desperation  read  the  telegram  again.  Good 
God,  all  he  had  then  was  the  money  in  his  pocket! 
Here  he  was  with  only  eighty  dollars  in  his  pocket- 
book — he  who  had  counted  so  confidently — with 
every  right  to  that  confidence — on  well  over  four 
thousand — four  thousand,  three  hundred  at  the  very 
least. 

Were  it  not  for  Chris  he  would  have  been  less 
unmanned.  The  sea  is  a  hard  master,  but  it  will  al 
ways  feed  and  clothe  a  man  who  has  made  it  his 
trade.  He  couldn't  starve — it  wasn't  that.  But  it 
meant  losing  Chris,  abandoning  all  thought  and 
dreams  of  her  as  his  wife.  He  saw  himself  in  a 
dingy  fo'castle,  and  heard  the  hoarse  cry  of  "All 
hands  on  deck!"  That's  what  it  meant  now— every 
thing  gone — and  perhaps  a  couple  of  years  before  he 
could  even  contrive  to  reach  Lotoalofa  again. 

How  did  he  know  that  he  wasn't  being  cheated  ? 
Those  jewelers,  for  all  their  fine  shop,  might  be 
taking  advantage  of  his  powerlessness  to  rob  him.  It 
was  so  easy  to  rob  him.  They  had  seen  that,  and 
were  now  taking  advantage  of  him.  There  was  no 
flaw  in  the  ruby.  Everything  John  Mort  had  was 
of  the  best,  of  the  finest.  "Experts  pronounce  ruby 
flawed!"  The  chap  would  have  paid  him  fifty-five 
hundred  dollars  then  and  there  for  the  ring.  He  was 

107 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

an  expert  himself — that  bald  man.  He  hadn't  dilly 
dallied  or  anything,  but  had  been  eagerness  itself  to 
clench  the  bargain.  It  was  inconceivable  that  he  had 
been  mistaken.  He  was  a  thief,  that  was  what  he 
was,  a  low,  contemptible,  damned  thief,  who  had 
discovered  how  to  get  the  ring  for  a  thousand — the 
thousand  originally  advanced. 

He  raged  up  and  down  the  room  in  impotent 
wrath.  People  knocked  and  spoke  through  the  key 
hole,  but  he  disregarded  them — Hoyt,  Mrs.  Sattane, 
and  finally  Daggancourt,  and  even  Smith,  the  night 
train  despatches  The  wonder  was  that  the  list  did 
not  include  Miss  Gibbs  and  Bridget,  and  Buggins, 
too,  for  the  entire  household  seemed  to  be  gathered 
outside  his  door,  prying  and  speculating.  One, 
alone,  could  have  been  of  the  least  solace  to  him, 
and  she  was  lying  in  that  great,  grim  house,  beyond 
those  miles  of  dripping  woods. 

But  she  would  know  soon  enough — too  soon.  A 
few  days,  and  they  would  say  good-by  for  the  last 
time,  for  ever,  unless  a  miracle  happened.  The 
general  was  the  only  person  capable  of  figuring 
in  a  miracle.  But  Matt  built  no  hopes  there.  It  was 
impossible  to  associate  "Bless  you,  my  children," 
with  that  keen,  proud  face — rather  a  withering  re 
sentment,  and  a  glance  that  would  strike  like  a  knife. 
The  miracle  would  be  how  to  get  out  alive — how  to 
escape  with  the  least  shred  of  self-respect. 

No,  with  four  thousand  dollars,  with  Daggan 
court,  and  the  aid  of  Chris'  intrepid  spirit  it  had  been 

108 


MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

within  the  bounds  of  reason.  The  rose  could  have 
been  plucked — general  or  no  general — and  carried 
in  triumph  to  that  Kentucky  farm.  But  eighty  dol 
lars  was  eighty — nothing.  Better  confront  the  fact 
once  and  for  all,  with  whatever  courage  and  resolu 
tion  one  possessed.  Brace  up  to  it,  admit  it  without 
equivocation,  and  beat  no  more  against  the  bars  of 
the  impossible. 

By  supper  time  he  had  somewhat  recovered  his 
composure,  and  though  very  pale,  contrived  in 
other  respects  to  conceal  the  crushing  nature 
of  his  misfortune.  He  announced  gravely  that 
he  had  received  bad  news,  and  begged  that  he 
might  be  excused  from  giving  the  particulars. 
This  saved  him  from  direct  questioning,  but  in 
directly  the  meal  resolved  itself  into  a  sort 
of  game  of  hide-and-seek.  Mrs.  Sattane  ingen 
iously  turned  the  conversation  on  departed  moth 
ers,  and  moaned  over  the  empty  chair  and  the  awful 
sense  of  loss;  Hunter  Hoyt  continued  with  fathers — 
shakily,  and  with  pathetic  reminiscences  of  his  own ; 
a  favored  sister,  a  beloved  brother,  passed  succes 
sively  in  review,  only  to  die  in  the  flower  of  their 
age ;  Mr.  Goldstein  introduced  a  coffin  containing  a 
young  bride  in  her  wedding-dress — but  none  of 
these  artless  efforts  served  to  tap  the  source  of  Matt's 
depression  as  he  sat  there  in  a  brown  study,  ob 
livious  of  everything. 

After  supper  he  got  his  overcoat,  and  settled  him 
self  in  a  dry  corner  of  the  veranda.  The  rain  had 

109 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

stopped,  or  at  least  was  in  abeyance,  and  the  bleak 
night  accorded  with  his  thoughts,  and  protected  him, 
too,  from  the  distasteful  chatter  of  the  others.  Here 
he  mused,  cold  but  secure,  with  no  companion  save 
his  wretchedness.  Life  was  revealing  itself  to  him 
in  aspects  he  had  never  suspected.  "Man  is  born  to 
sorrow  as  the  sparks  fly  upward,"  said  the  preacher 
— another  of  those  disheartening  old  gentlemen  who 
had  known  more  three  thousand  years  ago  than  Matt 
had  yet  acquired  in  the  twentieth  century. 

But  he  seemed  to  be  acquiring  wisdom  fast.  Look 
ing  back  he  saw  he  had  moved  among  the  stricken 
and  had  not  perceived  it.  He  had  a  new  perception 
of  why  so  many  men  drank ;  of  the  passionate  refuge 
so  many  women  took  in  their  children ;  understood, 
too,  the  origin  of  those  unexpected  kindnesses  that 
had  once  surprised  him.  There  was  a  brotherhood 
of  suffering  in  the  world;  in  time  all  joined  it  ex 
cept  the  favored  few.  This  idea  of  happiness  was  all 
a  make-believe,  a  fiction ;  you  either  ran  like  a  don 
key  for  the  never-reached  carrot  in  front,  or  if  you 
detected  the  cheat,  you  were  speeded  from  behind 
by  a  brisk  succession  of  pricks.  Such  was  life,  as 
analyzed  on  Mrs.  Sattane's  porch,  by  one  who  had 
previously  given  the  subject  scant  consideration. 

Matt's  reflections  were  suddenly  arrested  by  the 
stoppage  of  an  automobile  at  the  gate,  and  the  de 
scent  of  a  vaguely  familiar  figure.  It  was  an  im 
mense  limousine,  not  unlike  the  one  he  had  associ 
ated  with  Mr.  Kay's  departure  the  night  before.  In 

no 


MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

fact,  the  vaguely  familiar  figure  was  Mr.  Kay  him 
self,  advancing  hurriedly  up  the  board-walk. 

"So  it's  you,"  said  Matt,  rising  to  greet  him  at  the 
steps.  Any  interruption  was  welcome  in  the  general 
tragedy  of  things. 

Mr.  Kay  blinked  recognition,  and  then  shook 
hands  in  the  friendliest  manner. 

"Brought  the  mint  with  you?"  asked  Matt. 

"Why,  certainly  I  have,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Kay  with 
undisguised  eagerness.  "I  am  ready  to  raise  our 
offer  to  a  hundred  thousand,  and  shall  be  most 
pleased  to  settle  the  matter  at  once  on  that  basis." 

"How  can  I  tell  they  are  not  counterfeit  notes?" 
objected  Matt  banteringly.  "No  offense,  Mr.  Kay, 
but  it  might  be  rather  hard  on  me  if  they  were." 

Mr.  Kay  pondered  with  an  appearance  of  sup 
pressed  irritation.  "Yes,  you're  entitled  to  say  that," 
he  conceded.  "In  the  same  situation  I  should  be  as 
cautious  myself.  But  you  are  acquainted  with  the 
local  people,"  he  went  on.  "I  have  reason  to  believe 
you  have  many  acquaintances  here.  Jump  into  the 
car,  Broughton,  and  I  will  take  you  to  anybody  you 
wish — any  banker  or  merchant  you  may  name. 
Nothing  could  be  fairer  than  that !  Is  it  a  bargain  ? 
A  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  the  notes  con 
firmed  by  some  one  you  trust  ?  Come  along !"  With 
that  he  laid  his  hand  urgently  on  Matt's  arm,  but 
the  latter  remained  immovable. 

"I  gave  you  my  decision  last  night,"  he  said. 
"Or  rather  I  told  you  I  hadn't  the  information  you 

in 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

wanted.  You  surely  can  not  have  any  better  proof 
of  it  than  this.  What  man  in  his  senses  would  re 
fuse  a  hundred  thousand  dollars?  I  know  I 
wouldn't.  I  was  only  joking  when  I  raised  you.  It 
was  only  to  see  how  far  you  would  go.  Mr.  Kay, 
you  are  trying  to  buy  something  I  haven't  got,  and 
there  it  is  in  a  nutshell." 

"Then  who  was  the  violinist  you  referred  to  in 
that  newspaper  account?  The  man  who  played  on 
the  ship,  and  quelled  the  savages  when  they  were 
ready  to  attack  you?  Answer  me  that,  please.  It 
is  very  important — it  is  the  key  to  everything." 

Matt  started;  he  had  completely  forgotten  that 
chance  reference  to  John  Mort;  the  indiscretion  of 
it  now  took  his  breath  away.  What  an  ass  he  had 
been  ever  to  let  Hunter  Hoyt  extort  it  from  his  lips ! 

"Answer  me  that,"  continued  the  stranger,  with 
a  gleam  of  his  yellow  teeth,  and  clutching  at  Matt's 
arm  again. 

"Oh,  the  violinist?"  returned  Matt,  pretending  to 
laugh.  "He  was  nothing  to  get  excited  about.  In 
reality,  he  wasn't  a  violinist  at  all,  but  played  the 
concertina,  and  he  didn't  quell  anybody.  That  was 
all  the  newspaper  men's  work,  like  most  of  the  in 
terview.  It  was  simply  that  we  had  a  scare  once 
down  in  New  Britain,  and  kept  him  playing  till  we 
could  get  at  our  pistols." 

"Then  there  was  nothing  in  it?" 

"Well,  there  had  been  a  massacre  in  the  next  bay, 
and—" 

112 


MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

"But  no  violinist?  No  one  at  all  resembling  the 
miniature  I  showed  you?" 

"No,  no!  He  was  a  Dutchman  named  Van  Tas 
sel — and  had  been  a  waiter  in  a  Sydney  restaurant. 
He  was  a  hot-tempered  little  fellow,  and  had  hit 
somebody  over  the  head  with  a  bottle.  That's  how 
we  came  to  take  him — paid  us  twenty  pounds  to 
smuggle  him  out  of  his  scrape." 

"I  see  that  you  can't  help  us,"  said  Mr.  Kay  after 
a  pause.  "It's  disappointing  to  have  to  admit  it — 
that  we  thought  you  knew  more  than  you  do.  Well, 
you've  been  very  obliging;  let  me  thank  you  for 
that,  Mr.  Broughton,  and  for  your  patience  and 
good-nature." 

"Oh,  don't  mention  it." 

"I  wish  I  could  persuade  you  to  go  before  my 
principals,  and  tell  them  what  you've  told  me.  They 
blame  me  for  my  failure — are  not  convinced,  you 
know — think  they  could  have  got  this  information 
out  of  you — this  information  that  isn't  there.  Per 
haps  I  might  make  it  worth  your  while  to  come — 
out  of  my  own  pocket,  you  know — out  of  my  own 
pocket.  Would  you  consider  it?" 

"Where  do  you  want  me  to  go?" 

"Only  to  the  railway  station,  to  a  private  car  we 
have  side-tracked  there.  You  could  show  them  that 
we  are  on  a  wrong  scent — support  me  in  what  I 
have  already  reported.  I  should  be  glad  to  pay 
fifty  dollars.  Surely  that  would  be  worth  half  an 
hour  of  your  time?  What  do  you  say?" 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Matt  hung  back.  He  was  confused,  undecided, 
and  not  unconscious  of  a  vague  apprehension.  Yet 
the  fifty  dollars  was  terribly  tempting.  It  would 
allow  him  to  extend  his  stay  in  Manaswan ;  to  put 
off  his  departure  for  a  couple  of  weeks ;  to  be  near 
Chris — to  see  her,  to  talk  to  her,  to  linger  in  para 
dise  before  he  would  be  cast  out  of  it  for  ever.  Nor 
would  it  be  any  disloyalty  to  John  Mort,  but  merely 
a  repetition  of  evasion  and  falsehood,  possibly  even 
helpful,  now  that  he  was  better  forewarned.  As  to 
their  doing  him  any  harm,  that  was  preposterous. 
Threaten,  perhaps?  Well,  let  them  threaten!  One 
could  stand  a  lot  of  threatening  for  fifty  dollars. 
He  would  leave  the  precious  fifty  dollars  at  home  so 
they  couldn't  get  it  away  from  him.  That  was 
about  the  worst  they  could  do — take  away  his  fifty 
dollars.  People  who  threw  about  thousand-dollar 
bills,  and  traveled  in  limousines  and  private  cars 
were  not  the  kind  to  risk  violence.  Oh,  he  would 
be  safe  enough;  he  was  sure  of  that;  these  shivers 
and  qualms  were  childish. 

"Yes,  I'll  go  for  fifty  dollars,"  he  said.  "Only 
if  you  don't  mind  I'd  rather  have  it  in  advance." 

Mr.  Kay  hastened  to  count  out  two  twenties  and 
a  ten — and  then  seemed  to  find  it  an  infliction 
that  Matt  should  suggest  any  further  delay.  It  was 
only  to  run  np-stairs  and  leave  the  money  and  his 
purse  under  the  pillow,  but  Mr.  Kay  chafed  and  de 
murred,  and  Matt,  on  his  return,  found  him  wait 
ing  with  ill-suppressed  impatience. 

114 


MR.  KAY  OFFERS  MORE 

"Come  along,"  he  cried,  and  gripping  Matt's  arm 
as  though  not  to  allow  him  to  escape  again,  hurried 
down  the  board-walk  to  the  automobile.  A  moment 
later  they  were  both  inside  and  the  car  swiftly  mov 
ing. 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE  PRIVATE  CAR 

\  1  7HATEVER  misgivings  Matt  may  have  had 
'  *  as  to  their  real  destination  were  set  at  rest  by 
the  clang  of  a  locomotive  bell  and  the  noise  of  heavy 
freight  cars  being  moved  and  shunted.  There  could 
be  no  question  they  were  in  the  railway  yards,  and 
bumping  over  unmistakable  railway  tracks,  and  the 
flash  of  a  trainman's  lantern  still  further  increased 
the  sense  of  security.  What  was  there  to  fear  with 
such  men  all  about  them,  busily  watchful,  and  likely 
at  any  time  to  dart  up  from  the  unlikeliest  places? 
Nor  was  there  anything  alarming  in  the  sight  of  the 
side-tracked  car. 

Mr.  Kay  begged  Matt  to  wait  at  the  steps  while 
he  went  inside  to  announce  their  arrival.  It  was  a 
good  ten  minutes  before  he  returned,  and  then,  in 
a  state  of  such  discomposure  that  Matt  knew  not 
what  to  make  of  it.  His  movements  were  nervous 
and  abrupt;  his  face,  even  in  the  dim  light,  seemed 
distorted;  he  was  breathing  heavily,  with  short, 
quick  gasps  that  showed  his  yellow  teeth.  Rasping 
out  something  that  meant  to  follow  him,  he  turned 
again,  apparently  confident  that  Matt  would  obey. 
For  a  fraction  of  a  second  that  was  in  doubt,  but 

116 


THE  PRIVATE  CAR 

the  recollection  of  the  fifty  dollars  quickened  Matt's 
resolutions;  he  needed  that  fifty  dollars  and  would 
earn  it,  come  what  might. 

He  found  himself  in  a  narrow  passage,  bordered 
on  one  hand  by  a  row  of  state-rooms  that  ran  half 
the  length  of  the  car.  The  door  of  every  one  was 
closed,  and  the  passage  itself  ended  in  darkness. 
Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness,  and  had  it  not  been 
for  the  singular  circumstances  of  his  coming  and 
his  assurance  that  there  must  be  others  somewhere 
present,  he  would  have  judged  the  car  deserted  and 
wholly  abandoned  to  Mr.  Kay  and  himself.  Con 
vinced  of  the  contrary,  however,  these  state-rooms 
affected  him  with  a  suggestion  of  secrecy  and  evil 
plotting;  in  imagination  he  saw  crouching  figures 
behind  their  doors;  hushed  and  stealthy  figures, 
mutely  signaling  from  room  to  room,  and  ready  to 
leap  forth  as  soon  as  he  was  well  within  their  power. 

Mr.  Kay  paused  at  the  last  door,  opened  it,  and 
beckoned  Matt  within.  It  was  an  ordinary  Pull 
man  state-room,  and  bore  no  sign  of  any  recent  oc 
cupancy.  There  was  no  break  in  the  serried  white 
towels  overhead;  the  racks  were  empty,  and  the 
pegs  supported  nothing ;  but  the  fact  that  the  blinds 
were  drawn  struck  oddly  on  Matt's  attention. 

He  seated  himself  and  watched  Mr.  Kay  draw 
ing  the  baize  curtain  across  the  open  doorway.  That 
the  latter  did  not  shut  the  door,  but  was  taking  par 
ticular  pains  with  the  curtain,  increased  Matt's 
uneasiness.  The  action  was  significant  and  again 

117 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

suggestive  of  stealth  and  mystery.  Even  after  lie 
had  settled  himself  opposite  Matt  Mr.  Kay  had  to 
jump  up  once  more  and  again  adjust  the  curtain,  as 
though  his  previous  efforts  had  left  him  dissatisfied. 
Then  he  reseated  himself,  cleared  his  throat,  and 
leaning  forward  confidentially,  laid  his  hand  on 
Mart's  knee. 

"Now,  tell  us  what  you  want,"  he  said  in  a  voice 
that  shook  a  little.  "Ask  for  the  moon — anything 
— and  we'll  get  it  for  you." 

"In  return  for  something  I  haven't  got  ?"  inquired 
Matt.  "Can't  you  get  it  into  your  head  once  and 
for  all  that  I  don't  know  the  man  you're  after?" 

"Broughton,  that  isn't  true." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is." 

"You  positively  refuse  one  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  for  this  information?" 

"I  tell  you  once  more  I  haven't  got  it." 

"But  I  offered  you  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
and  you  refused  it?" 

"Yes." 

A  rustle  of  the  green  baize  made  Matt  feel  that 
the  question  was  less  for  Mr.  Kay's  benefit  than  that 
of  some  hidden  person.  The  sensation  was  disagree 
able.  He  would  have  given  a  great  deal  at  that  mo 
ment  to  have  had  a  loaded  revolver  in  his  pocket. 
Mr.  Kay's  ill-concealed  agitation  and  his  almost  ter 
rified  glances  at  the  curtain  were  disconcerting,  to 
say  the  least  of  it. 

"Would  it  help  at  all,"  continued  the  latter,  "or 
118 


THE  PRIVATE  CAR 

give  us  a  possible  basis  for  agreement,  if  I  could 
prove  to  you  that  you  do  know  the  gentleman  we 
are  seeking  ?" 

"But  you  couldn't!"  cried  Matt. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Kay,  producing  something 
from  his  pocket. 

"Look  at  this,  for  instance." 

Matt,  in  utter  astonishment  gazed  at  the  ring 
lying  in  Mr.  Kay's  palm.  With  a  cry,  he  picked  it 
up  and  examined  it.  It  was  John  Mort's  ring — the 
ring  those  rascally  jewelers  had  filched  from  him. 

"What  do  you  say  to  that?"  asked  Mr.  Kay, 
gently  but  firmly  regaining  possession  of  the  ring 
and  slipping  it  over  his  little  finger. 

"Nothing,"  exclaimed  Matt  furiously. 

"Who  gave  it  to  you?" 

"I  shall  not  tell  you." 

"Will  you  still  persist  in  denying  all  knowledge  of 
this  man?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"That's  my  affair." 

Matt  had  risen.  He  was  in  a  white  heat  at  the 
way  he  had  been  victimized ;  at  his  own  helplessness ; 
at  the  deliberate  villainy  of  the  whole  proceed 
ing.  Had  these  people  robbed  him  of  his  ring 
for  no  other  reason  than  to  make  him  penniless 
and  to  place  him,  as  they  thought — at  their  mercy? 
God  only  knew  how  they  had  got  the  ring  from 
Snood  and  Hargreaves,  but  there  it  was,  glittering 

119 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

on  that  smooth  scoundrel's  finger,  and  as  like  as  not 
an  intentional  provocation  to  a  violence  they  would 
craftily  turn  to  account.  But  they  would  learn  their 
mistake;  learn  that  all  the  rings  or  blood-money  in 
the  world  could  not  swerve  him  an  inch. 

"I've  finished  with  you/'  he  said  hoarsely. 
"Good-by." 

He  turned  toward  the  doorway,  no  longer  afraid, 
but  in  the  humor  to  fling  back  the  curtain  and  stride 
right  through  the  eavesdroppers.  If  they  blocked 
him,  so  much  the  worse  for  them.  He  was  a  power 
ful  man;  he  could  hit  like  a  sledge-hammer  when 
his  blood  was  up;  he  welcomed  the  chance  to  land 
some  smashers  on  those  unseen  faces  and  drive  them 
before  him  like  sheep.  But  he  had  scarcely  moved, 
before  Mr.  Kay,  with  incredible  agility,  had  leapt  in 
front  of  him,  slamming  the  door  shut  and  locking 
it,  confronting  him  as  he  did  so  with  a  stare  of  ab 
ject  terror.  There  he  stood,  with  his  back  to  the 
door,  shaking  in  every  limb,  and  holding  out  his 
hands  before  him  as  though  to  ward  off  Matt's 
blows. 

"Don't,  don't!"  he  screamed  out  incoherently. 
"They're  crazy!  They  haven't  any  sense!  I  won't 
be  a  party  to  it — it's  criminal  and  I  won't  be  a  party 
to  it !  I  won't  be  a  party  to  anything  criminal !" 

"Let  me  out !"  cried  Matt  with  a  suffocating  sense 
of  being  trapped,  and  struggling  for  the  door-knob. 
"Get  out  of  my  way  or  I'll  strangle  you!" 

"No,  no!"  expostulated  Mr.  Kay,  resisting  him 
120 


THE  PRIVATE  CAR 

like  a  maniac  and  sobbing  while  he  spoke.  "You 
don't  understand.  They're  determined  to  get  the 
secret  out  of  you.  They're  putting  themselves 
within  the  criminal  law,  and  I'll  be  no  party  to  it. 
Good  God,  Broughton,  I'm  trying  to  save  you — to 
— save  myself!  Once  open  this  door  and  they'll 
tear  you  to  pieces !" 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  murmur  outside, 
and  the  door  shook  under  a  heavy  impact;  shook 
and  shook,  threatening  at  every  instant  to  burst  in. 
Mr.  Kay  collapsed  on  a  seat. 

"It  was  none  of  my  doing,"  he  moaned.  "You'll 
bear  witness  to  that,  Broughton — you'll  bear  wit 
ness  to  that  when  they've  got  us  all  in  the  dock. 
The  fools!"  he  raged,  in  a  sudden  outburst.  "The 
damned,  crazy  fools!" 

There  was  no  escape  except  through  the  window, 
and  that  was  double — two  panes  of  almost  the  thick 
ness  of  plate-glass.  Matt  threw  up  one  without  dif 
ficulty,  but  the  other  stuck.  He  fumbled  frantically 
at  the  catches,  as  he  endeavored  to  lift  it,  while  the 
door  shivered  now  under  the  deadlier  blows  of  an 
ax.  But,  thank  God,  the  cramped  passageway  gave 
them  no  room  for  a  swing.  They  were  striking  at 
an  angle,  as  the  lip  of  the  blade  once  showed  as  it 
drove  through  and  remained  imbedded  for  an 
instant. 

Oh,  that  window !  Matt  dug  his  fingers  into  the 
catches  and  drove  like  Samson,  his  desperation 
heightened  by  the  splintering  of  the  woodwork  and 

121 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

the  thud,  thud,  thud  of  the  ax.  But  the  window 
was  immovable;  he  could  get  no  real  purchase 
on  it;  he  skinned  his  lingers  and  strained  his 
back  to  breaking — and  still  it  defied  him.  He 
must  burst  it  then;  that  was  the  only  way — 
burst  it.  But  with  what?  Not  his  elbow.  It 
was  too  thick  for  his  elbow,  though  he  tried 
with  all  his  might,  ramming  it  against  steel. 
He  looked  about  wildly,  and  could  see  nothing 
to  help  him;  nothing  but  a  trifling  little  brush 
with  no  handle  to  speak  of.  But  there  was  Mr. 
Kay,  crying  out  inarticulately  and  handing  him 
something!  What  if  it  wasn't  Mr.  Kay's  shoe — a 
patent-leather  shoe  with  buttons,  still  warm  from 
the  foot.  He  seized  it  with  avidity,  this  help  from 
a  quarter  so  unexpected — seized  it  with  exultation. 

Taking  it  by  the  toe,  he  crashed  the  heel  through 
the  window.  Hammer,  hammer,  hammer,  with  the 
glass  shattering  and  the  jagged,  vicious  edges  dis 
appearing  beneath  a  rain  of  blows — disappearing  till 
he  could  trust  his  hands  on  the  frame  and  wriggle 
out.  He  went  legs  first,  crawlingly,  scraping  his 
wrists  and  hands  on  the  thin  knife  of  undislodged 
glass,  waistcoat  and  shirt  half  pulled  to  his  neck — • 
but  out,  no  matter  how,  till,  hanging  his  full  length, 
he  let  himself  drop  to  the  track  alongside  the  car. 

He  heard  shouts  above  as  though  the  broken  win 
dow  had  filled  with  emerging  heads;  he  saw  the 
chauffeur  jump  from  the  automobile  and  slink  to  the 
ground;  there  was  a  vision  of  the  porter  with  out- 

122 


THE  PRIVATE  CAR 

stretched  arms,  rushing  to  intercept  him,  and  a  gut 
tural  voice  from  somewhere  cried  out  with  a  sort  of 
wail:  "Don't  shoot!" 

If  anything  more  were  needed  to  hasten  Matt's 
feet  it  was  this  thrilling  command.  He  flew.  The 
lights  of  the  distant  station  wavered  before  him. 
He  dodged  under  freight  cars  and  past  the  shadow 
of  their  murderous  wrheels;  stumbled  and  fell  over 
the  rails  and  frogs;  ran,  till  the  stitch  in  his  side 
was  insupportable  and  his  heart  was  ready  to  burst 
— ran,  trotted,  limped,  till,  thank  God,  there  were 
people  all  about  him,  and  lights  and  animation  and 
security. 

It  was  the  hour  of  the  New  York  express,  with 
passengers  waiting,  and  three  hotel  omnibuses 
drawn  up  for  their  evening  quota.  Matt  threw  him 
self  on  a  bench  between  two  of  his  unconscious  pre 
servers,  panting  and  grateful,  while  they  looked 
at  him  askance,  wondering  at  his  disordered  ap 
pearance. 

There  he  sat,  slowly  recovering  himself  and  medi 
tating  what  he  ought  to  do.  His  first  idea  was  to 
invoke  the  police;  to  enter  a  formal  complaint  and 
return  to  the  car  with  a  posse  of  constables.  But 
as  he  thought  it  over  the  wisdom  of  this  course  grew 
less  apparent;  his  story  was  not  likely  to  be  be 
lieved;  indeed,  his  cunning  foes  might  turn  the 
tables  on  him  and  invent  a  complaint  of  their  own, 
with  him  as  the  culprit.  It  might  resolve  itself  into 
his  word  against  theirs — the  word  of  people  in  a 

123 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

private  car  against  that  of  a  lunatic,  prating  of  an 
offer  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  and  of  a  stolen 
ruby  ring  worth  a  fortune.  Thus  analyzed,  his  case 
was  ridiculous — a  fantasy. 

On  the  contrary,  how  easy  it  would  be  to  accuse 
him  of  having  forced  his  way  into  the  car  and  made 
a  disturbance — a  crack-brained  creature,  probably 
drunk,  who  broke  a  window  and  had  to  be  forcibly 
ejected.  So  reasonable  did  this  become  that  Matt 
hesitated  to  remain  longer  on  his  bench.  His  clothes 
were  torn;  his  hands  were  scratched  and  bleeding; 
he  was  reminded  that  he  had  no  hat.  He  had  better 
get  home  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  out  of  harm's  way. 
It  was  notoriously  an  unjust  world,  and  it  was  well 
not  to  tempt  the  lightning.  So  he  hastened  home  in 
some  trepidation,  and  only  felt  really  safe  when  he 
had  snuggled  into  bed. 

The  next  day  there  was  a  note  from  Chris, 
brought  by  a  messenger: 

"You  DEAR  You: 

"It  was  so  foolish  of  me  to  be  ill,  and  spoil  every 
thing,  though  I  got  so  cross  at  your  being  turned 
away  that  I  improved  instantly  and  ate  a  whole 
plate  of  calf's-foot  jelly.  This  is  to  ask  you  to 
come  and  share  some  more  with  me  on  a  sofa  and 
call  it  an  invitation  to  lunch.  Papa  is  going  to  New 
York  on  business,  and  we  can  be  all  by  ourselves, 
and  I'm  awfully  glad  and  excited,  though  I  suppose 
I  oughtn't  to  tell  you  so — or  ask  you  at  all,  for  that 
matter.  But  come  anyway,  even  if  the  heavens  fall 
and  you  should  get  your  beautiful,  wavy  hair  all 

124 


THE  PRIVATE  CAR 

covered  with  plaster.  Twelve-thirty,  please,  and 
don't  think  I've  changed,  because  I  haven't,  and  all 

last  night  I  was  thinking  and !     I  am  awfully, 

deliriously  happy,  and  somehow  it  is  your  fault, 
and  I  just  lie  back  and  shut  my  eyes — and  if  you 
are  a  minute  late  I  shall  hate  you. 

"CHRIS." 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  heart-rend 
ing  effect  of  this  letter  on  Matt.  When  his  debts 
were  paid  he  would  have  exactly  one  hundred  and 
twelve  dollars  left  in  the  whole  world.  True, 
many  a  man  had  succeeded  with  as  little — with  less 
— but  that  took  time — years — and  Matt  had  no 
years  to  spare.  The  only  thing  he  could  look  to, 
the  only  thing  that  offered  him  a  living — was  the 
sea.  He  was  as  ignorant  of  civilization  and  its 
myriad  chances  as  a  child;  he  exaggerated  the 
special  ability  needed,  the  special  training;  was 
unaware  of  what  could  be  accomplished  by  sheer 
ability,  character  and  courage.  To  him  there  was 
nothing  but  the  sea  and  the  hardest  wages  earned 
under  the  sun.  He  was  sick  with  despair;  he  cried 
over  that  letter  in  the  seclusion  of  his  room;  it  was 
terrible  to  resign  himself  to  the  inevitable  and  give 
up  Chris. 

He  went  out  to  search  for  the  private  car,  im 
pelled  by  a  forlorn  hope  of  regaining  his  ring. 
Somehow,  perhaps,  this  might  happen;  seen  in 
the  retrospect,  Mr.  Kay  appeared  to  be  his  friend; 
at  any  rate,  Kay  had  defended  him  and  held  the 

125 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

door  against  his  enemies.  Mr.  Kay  might  be  terri 
fied  or  persuaded  into  returning  the  ring.  Matt 
was  in  that  desperate  state  of  mind  when  a  man  is 
fearless.  He  stopped  at  a  pawnbroker's  and  bought 
a  cheap  revolver  for  three  dollars;  stopped  at  a 
hardware  store  and  bought  ten  .38  cartridges  for 
twenty-five  cents;  loitered  under  a  tree  and  sur 
reptitiously  shoved  six  of  them  into  the  chamber 
and  then  went  on  with  his  right-hand  pocket  bulg 
ing. 

He  was  ready  for  anything — was  cool  and  de 
termined.  But  there  was  no  private  car  to  be 
found.  He  searched  the  entire  yard,  and  questioned 
every  one,  but  the  private  car  had  vanished.  It 
might  never  have  existed  at  all  for  the  answers  he 
got.  Railway  discipline  is  very  strict;  chattering 
to  strangers  is  discouraged;  the  pertinacious  in 
quirer  may  be  some  spying  agent  of  the  Interstate 
Commerce  Commission — with  subsequent  dismissal 
in  the  division  superintendent's  office.  Nobody 
knew  anything  about  a  private  car — nothing. 

Matt  idled  about  till  it  was  time  to  start  for  Fair 
Oaks;  idled,  and  smoked  pipe  after  pipe,  and  wished 
he  had  never  bought  that  confounded  revolver  which 
weighed  down  his  pocket  like  a  brick.  Looking 
back  on  those  agitating  times,  it  seemed  as  though 
he  were  always  waiting,  always  hanging  on  an  ever 
lasting  clock  and  waiting.  It  was  worse  than  bore 
dom,  because  it  gave  him  an  unlimited  opportunity 
to  think ;  and  all  he  had  to  think  about  was  his  hun- 

126 


THE  PRIVATE  CAR 

dred  and  twelve  dollars  and  his  lost  ring  and  the 
desolating  hopelessness  of  everything. 

He  walked  all  the  way  to  save  the  hire  of  a  car 
riage,  and  waited  again  at  the  entrance  to  the 
grounds  to  time  his  arrival  exactly  for  half-past 
twelve.  She  had  said  she  would  hate  him  if  he  ar 
rived  a  minute  late,  so,  watch  in  hand,  he  dilly 
dallied  until  he  could  make  his  appearance  with  the 
precision  of  a  Monte  Cristo. 

"Miss  Marshall?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir!    This  way,  please." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

was  half  reclining  on  a  sofa,  propped 
about  with  pillows,  and  in  a  Chinese  wrap  of 
magnificent  old  brocade,  all  gold,  and  twisted,  em 
broidered  dragons.  Her  delicate  beauty  was  unim 
paired  by  any  trace  of  illness,  though  enhanced  by 
the  unusual  brilliancy  of  her  eyes,  and  a  flush,  too 
hectic  for  health,  that  mantled  the  fine  oval  of  her 
face. 

Matt  ran  to  her,  taking  her  hands  and  kissing 
them,  and  then  sank  on  his  knees  beside  her.  His 
cares,  his  wretchedness,  the  misery  of  his  renuncia 
tion — all  were  gone  as  the  soft  bare  arms  closed 
round  his  neck  and  drew  down  his  head.  Somehow, 
mysteriously,  he  knew  not  how,  the  load  was  lifted 
from  his  heart.  It  seemed  that  he  had  been  mis 
taken;  it  seemed  that  he  had  been  torturing  himself 
for  nothing;  in  that  ineffable  tenderness  he  sud 
denly  felt  himself  secure,  protected  and  consoled, 
like  a  frightened  child  caught  close  to  its  mother's 
breast. 

She  raised  his  face  and  scrutinized  him  with  a 
pretty  air  of  ownership  and  a  gravity  that  dimpled 
at  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

128 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

"A  tired  boy !"  she  said,  speculatingly.  "A  won 
dering,  worried,  scared  boy!  A  boy  who  has  been 
thinking  too  much  and  eating  too  little — and,  oh, 
dear,  what  a  scratched  boy !" 

"I  got  that  climbing  out  of  a  Pullman  window 
last  night,"  explained  Matt,  showing  his  wrists. 
"I  had  to  break  it  with  a  shoe  that  an  old  gentleman 
kindly  lent  me,  and  got  out  in  a  hurry." 

Chris'  eyes  opened  very  wide. 

"What  a  funny,  strange,  impetuous  boy !"  she  ex 
claimed.  "Wasn't  there  any  door?" 

"There  were  people  banging  that  in,  yowling  for 
my  destruction,"  continued  Matt  tantalizingly.  "I 
don't  know  what  they  wanted,  I'm  sure,  but  they 
were  going  at  it  in  the  liveliest  way  with  an  ax,  and 
I  chose  the  window  rather  than  wait  and  find  out." 

"That  was  a  prudent  boy — but — but — where  on 
earth  did  all  this  happen?" 

"In  a  private  car,  side-tracked  near  the  railway 
station." 

"But  how  did  you  happen  to  go  there?" 

"That  old  gentleman  took  me  there — the  one  who 
lent  me  his  shoe.  Paid  me  fifty  dollars  for  going, 
and  rode  me  there  in  an  automobile." 

"But  why?" 

"I'm  telling  it  all  the  wrong  end  foremost,"  went 
on  Matt.  "It's  an  extraordinary  story — Chris,  it's 
astounding.  I  can't  make  head  nor  tail  of  it.  I  was 
actually  offered  a  hundred  thousand  dollars — think 
of  it,  Chris — positively  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 

129 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

right  there  in  greenbacks  to  betray  a  man  I  knew. 
Had  it  forced  on  me — almost  stuffed  in  my  pocket." 

Her  surprise,  disbelief  even,  caused  him  to  draw 
forth  the  revolver  in  witness. 

"It's  not  a  joke,  Chris,"  he  said.  "I  bought  that 
this  morning,  and  may  be  mighty  glad  I  did  so." 

The  momentary  flash  of  steel  was  thrilling  in  that 
quiet  room  and  amid  such  peaceful  surroundings. 
Chris  uttered  a  little  cry,  breathing  fast,  and  gazing 
at  him  in  amazement. 

"You  frighten  me,"  she  gasped  out.  "Matt,  I'm 
'frightened.  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  Tell  me !" 

"The  trouble  is  I  don't  know  myself,"  he  re 
turned,  as  a  tide  of  depressing  recollections  swept 
over  him.  "I  am  somehow  a  blind  cog  in  other 
people's  business,  and  the  thing  that  hits  me  hardest 
is  that  they  have  ruined  me.  I've  lost  everything, 
Chris,  everything  I  counted  on  to  make  a  start 
somewhere.  I  had  four  thousand  dollars,  as  safe  as 
though  it  was  in  the  bank,  and  it's  gone,  stolen — 
God  knows  how,  but  they  have  got  it — robbed  me, 
Chris,  robbed  me." 

His  voice  was  shaking;  the  realization  of  his  loss 
was  unnerving  him;  his  shoulders  heaved.  "I've 
been  in  hell,  Chris,"  he  continued  huskily.  "I  don't 
know  which  way  to  turn ;  four  thousand  dollars  isn't 
much,  of  course — but  it  meant  you;  I — I  hoped  it 
meant  you,  after  what  you  had  said ;  believed  it  did, 
anyway — counted  on  it.  Yes,  you  and  I  together, 
no  matter  how  poor,  but  with  some  sort  of  a  home 

130 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

of  our  own.  And  now  it's  gone,  and  I  haven't  any 
thing,  and  it  means  good-by,  Chris — it  means  good- 
by." 

He  bowed  his  head  in  shame,  refusing  to 
be  comforted,  while  she  whispered  and  whis 
pered  that  she  loved  him;  that  it  would  never 
be  good-by,  never,  Matt,  never ;  that  as  long  as  they 
had  each  other  nothing  could  hurt  them;  that  he 
was  a  poor,  precious,  foolish,  silly,  devoted  boy- 
person  without  any  sense  at  all,  who  thought  he 
could  walk  away  from  love  and  leave  it  behind — • 
like  an  umbrella,  just  because  he  hadn't  four  thou 
sand  dollars!  As  though  it  made  the  least  differ 
ence  what  he  had,  her  lover-boy,  her  darling,  for  he 
was  strong  and  splendid  and  brave  and  big,  and  if 
that  wasn't  being  rich,  what  was  ?  And  he  had  her, 
hadn't  he  ?  And  he  wasn't  to  think  she  was  always 
a  helpless,  draggy  thing,  lying  on  a  sofa  in  a  dragon 
coat,  eating  calf's-foot  jelly.  No,  indeed,  she 
wasn't — but  able  to  go  out  and  fight,  too,  and  jump 
out  of  a  Pullman  window,  if  need  be,  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  probably  better,  judging  by  his  poor,  cut 
wrists — and  work,  yes — work  her  hands  off  for  the 
man  she  loved — and  he  was  that,  wasn't  he?  He 
knew  he  was  that. 

After  a  while  Matt  was  persuaded  to  get  up  and 
have  his  rumpled  hair  smoothed  and  his  tie  straight 
ened,  and  was  made  to  sit  on  a  chair  quite  far  away, 
lest  Watkins  should  pop  in  and  be  shocked.  All  of 
which  Matt  did  bewilderingly,  but  with  his  eyes 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

shining  and  a  strange,  welling  feeling  at  his  heart 
and  something  so  lumpy  in  his  throat  that  he  had  to 
hold  himself  very  still,  and  dared  hardly  utter  a 
word. 

Then  Watkins  did  come — not  poppingly  and 
shocked,  but  rung  for,  and  composed,  with  a  large 
tray  and  all  the  materials  for  spreading  a  small 
table  with  luncheon.  As  this  proceeded  noiselessly 
and  deftly,  Chris  carried  on  a  desultory  conversation 
with  her  visitor  that  must  have  shocked  even  Wat- 
kins,  at  the  latter's  dullness.  Matt  contributed 
hardly  more  than  yes  or  no  to  that  bubbling  mono 
logue  which  screened  his  agitation;  and  was  more 
than  thankful  when  the  deft  and  noiseless  Watkins 
finally  withdrew. 

It  seemed  that  it  wasn't  to  be  a  real  lunch  at  all, 
but  what  Chris  called  a  dolly  lunch;  and  a  dolly 
lunch  meant  that  Matt  was  to  squeeze  down  on  a 
stool  beside  the  sofa,  with  a  tiny  table  in  front  of 
him  not  much  higher  than  the  stool  itself  and  with 
most  of  the  dishes  on  the  floor.  A  gay,  unusual, 
little  lunch,  such  as  Chris  used  to  have  with  her 
favorite  doll,  only  now  she  was  grown  up  and  pre 
ferred  a  beautiful,  big,  handsome  lover-boy;  and  the 
beautiful,  big,  handsome  lover-boy  sat  there  in  a 
sort  of  maze,  and  wondered  how  he  could  ever  have 
been  miserable  or  sad  or  anything,  till  he  scarcely 
knew  the  difference  between  lamb  chops  and  lobster 
salad,  or  whether  it  was  Rhine  wine  or  fairy  sun 
shine  that  sparkled  in  his  glass.  Sat  there  in  an 

132 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

ecstasy  that  brimmed  again  and  again  to  his  eyes, 
humbling  him  and  ennobling  him  both  at  once,  and 
giving  a  new  meaning  to  a  word  he  had  so  often  said 
and  never  understood  before. 

Then  the  great  secret  trembled  on  his  tongue  and 
it  seemed  impossible  to  withhold  it  any  longer,  for  it 
had  become  essential  for  her  to  know  it.  That  it 
was  safe  in  her  keeping  was  a  sacrilege  to  question ; 
she  was  as  true  as  himself  and  had  a  right  to  his 
confidence ;  it  could  be  no  reproach  to  him,  no  real 
breach  of  his  word  that  she  should  now  learn  the 
truth. 

Accordingly  he  began  to  tell  of  Lotdalofa;  of 
John  Mort  and  Mirovna,  and  of  his  long,  lonely 
voyages  at  the  behest  of  this  strange  pair,  who  in 
that  waste  of  sea  and  reefs  had  founded  a  mimic 
kingdom  and  hidden  themselves  beyond  the  ken  of 
men.  He  told  with  pride  of  their  reliance  on  him, 
of  their  steadfast  trust  and  friendship;  of  the  si 
lence  he  had  been  pledged  to,  and  which  he  had 
hitherto  kept  so  loyally. 

How  vividly  it  all  returned  to  him  as  he  went  on — • 
those  far-off  scenes,  those  faces  endeared  to  him  by  a 
thousand  recollections — that  mystery  which  he  had 
touched  and  shared  and  yet  had  never  pene 
trated!  He  recalled  the  money  of  which  there 
was  no  end  nor  stint;  the  anxious  secrecy  en 
joined  upon  him;  the  stealth  with  which  the 
time-expired  natives  were  returned  to  their  homes, 
often  in  boats  that  were  prodigally  given  them, 

133 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  lowered  over  the  ship's  side  far  out  at  sea. 
Never  did  they  take  more  from  the  same  place 
or  see  the  same  island  twice;  the  new  men  came 
from  new  islands,  and  often  from  groups  as  re 
mote  as  the  Tubuais  or  the  Louisades.  Once  he  had 
had  a  weary  beat  of  a  thousand  miles  to  get  rid  of 
a  boy  whose  only  fault  was  a  knowledge  of  English, 
which  John  Mort  deemed  he  spoke  too  well.  "Sav 
ages,  Captain,"  he  would  say.  "Bring  me  savages 
with  filed  teeth  and  heathen  souls;  we  haven't  any 
room  on  Lotoalofa  for  Bible  Christians." 

Then  Matt  came  to  the  capsizing  of  the  North 
Star,  and  the  horrible,  drowning  scramble  to  ex 
tricate  himself,  and  perch,  with  the  crew,  on  her 
slimy  copper.  Spoke  of  it  calmly,  for  all  its 
nightmarish  details,  and  with  a  mingled  earnest 
ness  and  laughter  and  a  kind  of  frightened  zest 
that  made  it  so  piercingly  real  to  the  young 
lady  on  the  sofa  that  she  trembled  with  sus 
pense,  and  could  have  swooned  as  the  Hall 
broke  out  the  Stars  and  Stripes  and  ...  It 
took  a  cup  of  black  coffee  to  restore  her,  which 
she  held  in  one  hand,  while  she  clung  tightly  to 
the  poor  castaway  with  the  other,  lest  somehow  he 
should  slip  down  and  be  engulfed  in  that  awful — 
carpet.  The  poor  castaway,  too,  was  revived  with 
black  coffee,  and  none  of  the  passengers  of  the 
Mariposa  could  have  been  kinder  to  him  than  this 
young  lady,  or  more  sympathetically  solicitous. 

In  this  comforting  manner  she  accompanied  him 
134 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

to  San  Francisco  and  into  the  store  of  those  rascally 
Snood  and  Hargreaves,  an  unseen  witness  of  their 
duplicity.  From  thence  there  was  a  three-kiss  jump 
to  Manaswan,  where  she  was  made  acquainted  with 
Hunter  Hoyt  and  Moaning  Mary  and  Daggancourt 
and  Buggins  (quite  a  disproportionate  amount  of 
Buggins),  and  finally  with  Mr.  Kay  and  his  aston 
ishing  thousand-dollar  notes  and  still  more  astonish 
ing  insistence  to  get  rid  of  them. 

"That's  the  whole  story/'  said  Matt  in  conclusion. 
"If  you  can  make  head  or  tail  of  it — go  ahead." 

"Of  course,  he  has  run  away,"  Chris  replied  with 
intense  interest.  "And  they  want  him  back  a  whole 
hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth." 

"Agreed." 

"A  defaulting  banker,  perhaps?" 

"Knows  too  little  of  money — I  could  have  robbed 
him  of  thousands." 

"A  South  American  president,  ousted  by  a  revolu 
tion?" 

"He  can  not  speak  Spanish —  go  on." 

"Perhaps  this  lovely  Mirovna  isn't  his  wife?" 

"I've  never  thought  she  was,  but — " 

"The  husband  is  enormously  rich,  and  is  trying  to 
follow  them?" 

"That  isn't  likely.  Besides,  he  said  it  would  shake 
the  world.  Those  were  his  own  words." 

"How  could  anybody  being  found — any  man — 
shake  the  world?" 

"That's  the  puzzle  of  it." 

135 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"You  are  not  positive  of  his  nationality?" 

"Well,  I  think  he's  a  German.  He  speaks  German 
fluently — though  French,  too,  for  that  matter,  and 
Italian." 

"But  a  German's  a  German — they  are  unmis 
takable." 

"I'm  pretty  sure  he's  a  German." 

"AndMirovna?" 

"Oh,  less  sure.  I  couldn't  guess  what  she  is,  but 
po'ssibly  a  Pole,  or  some  eastern  European.  She  has 
a  profile  like  a  Byzantine  medal." 

"I've  known  awfully  German  kind  of  Russians — 
stiff,  autocratic,  and  yet  delightful." 

"Yes,  he  might  be  a  Russian." 

"Oh,  there  it  is!  Political  refugee — state  secrets 
• — the  myrmidons  of  the  Czar!  It's  as  plain  as  day 
light,  Matt ;  he's  a  Nihilist !" 

"An  awfully  rich  Nihilist,  Chris?  It  hardly  fits 
into  one's  ideas  of  him  or  Mirovna.  What!  A 
Nihilist  with  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  Bank  of 
England  notes?" 

"You  may  have  put  your  finger  on  it  right  there." 

"There  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Those  notes." 

"Well,  what  of  them?" 

"How  do  you  know  he  doesn't  make  them  him 
self?" 

"Not  counterfeit  them?" 

"Yes,  counterfeit  ones — makes  them  while  you  are 
away — were  away,  I  mean — in  the  schooner." 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

"Why,  I  should  have  been  landed  in  jail  so  quick 
you  couldn't  have  seen  my  coat-tails." 

"Passing  them  ?" 

"Yes,  passing  them." 

"They  may  be  undistinguishable  from  the  good 
ones?" 

"No  counterfeit  is  ever  that,  and  besides,  the  Bank 
of  England  paper  is  a  secret  in  itself." 

"A  secret  your  Mr.  Mort  has  learned! — Think 
it  over,  Matt — weren't  the  notes  all  small  ones?" 

"Yes,  by  George,  they  were!  The  smallest  de 
nomination  of  all — five-pound  notes,  and  a  fearful 
nuisance  it  was,  too,  counting  them  out  for  anything 
like  a  big  payment." 

Chris  clapped  her  hands  excitedly. 

"There's  the  explanation,"  she  cried.  "Your 
island  was  a  little  money  mill,  and  the  moment  your 
back  was  turned  your  clever  Mr.  Mort  put  on  his 
overalls  and  got  to  work !" 

Matt  was  unconvinced ;  he  would  have  staked  his 
life  on  John  Mort's  honesty  and  honor;  yet  to  meet 
this  reflection  on  his  friend  he  said :  "It's  incredible, 
Chris;  the  false  notes,  however  skilfully  imitated, 
were  bound  to  return  to  the  Bank  of  England,  and 
be  found  out.  No  bank  can  be  successfully  victim 
ized  for  six  years.  It  would  know  its  own  notes, 
depend  on  it,  and  the  first  batch  of  forgeries  would 
unloose  a  still  larger  batch  of  detectives." 

"No,  Matt,  listen,"  Chris  protested  with  immense 
vehemence.  "Papa  told  me  that  the  Bank  of  France 

137 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

\ 

had  such  clever  counterfeits  foisted  on  it  once  that 
it  was  afraid  to  denounce  them  publicly  or  to  refuse 
to  receive  them.  They  were  so  perfect,  you  know — 
so  undetectable — that  it  was  risking  a  panic  to  say 
that  they  were  bad,  for  nobody  in  France  would  have 
felt  safe,  and  there  would  have  been  a  run  on  the 
banks  everywhere  for  gold.  Don't  you  see?  The 
Bank  of  France  was  forced  to  honor  them  in  its  own 
protection,  rather  than  scare  the  whole  of  France 
and  bring  business  to  a  standstill." 

Matt  shook  his  head. 

"I  can  knock  all  that  to  spillikins,"  he  said.  "You 
forget  the  miniature  they  showed  me,  and  its  setting 
of  superb  diamonds.  How  can  you  make  that  accord 
with  your  theory?  Whoever  it  represented,  it  was 
certainly  not  a  criminal,  but  a  very  aristocratic 
young  man  with  a  military  collar.  Besides — I  can 
not  tell  you  how,  exactly — Kay  didn't  handle  it  like 
a  rogues'  gallery  picture,  but  with  a  curious  respect 
— a  curious,  indefinable  deference." 

"I  give  it  up,  then,"  Chris  exclaimed  with  a  baf 
fled  little  air.  "If  you  couldn't  have  found  it  out  in 
six  years,  I  suppose  I  needn't  expect  to  in  six  min 
utes.  But  it  just  makes  you  burst  not  to  know, 
doesn't  it?" 

"There's  a  worse  problem  still — what  is  to  become 
of  me?" 

"Us,  Matt,"  she  corrected  him  jealously.  "Poor 
little  hundred-and-twelve-dollar  us." 

"I  might  as  well  shoot  myself  as  stay  on  here; 

138 ' 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

there's  nothing  here,  Chris,  in  this  little  backwater 
of  a  place.  What  shall  it  be — East  or  West — try  for 
a  deep-water  ship  or  strike  out  boldly  for  Colorado 
or  Wyoming  or  somewhere?" 

"Go  away?"  she  cried.  "No,  I  can't  let  you  go 
away — I  can't,  I  can't ;  unless  you  don't  care — unless 
it's  all — "  She  broke  off,  looking  at  him  poignantly, 
only  to  be  crushed  in  his  strong  arms,  overborne, 
blinded,  panting,  and  deliciously  helpless  and  ill- 
used.  Of  course  he  loved  her!  Loved  her  better 
than  anything  in  the  world;  would  crush  her  again 
for  ever  doubting  it.  No,  she  had  to  admit  how 
cruel  she  had  been,  how  wicked  and  unkind ;  had  to, 
or  he  would  hurt  her  more,  obstinate  little  wretch 
that  she  was.  But  it  seemed  that  she  wasn't  an 
obstinate  little  wretch  at  all,  only  terribly  smothered 
and  gaspingly  eager  to  be  forgiven,  and  anyhow, 
how  was  she  to  know  when  he  sat  there  so  cold  and 
distant,  and  talked  about  going  away — that  he  really 
and  truly  did  love  her — as  though  anybody  who 
loved  anybody  would  go  away  and  leave  somebody 
to  break  her  heart. 

Nor  was  she  a  clinging,  useless,  impractical  young- 
lady-person  without  any  sense  or  ideas — no,  indeed, 
she  wasn't!  They  were  in  a  very  serious  predic 
ament,  and  she  meant  to  be  mouse  to  the  poor,  tat 
tered,  scared,  whiny  lion,  and  rescue  him  somehow 
and  earn  his  everlasting  gratitude — keep  him  from 
bounding  off  into  the  tall  grass,  at  any  rate,  for  the 
Teddy  hunters  to  shoot  at  him,  and  the  snakes  to 

139 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

bite  him,  and  the  hoodlum  hyenas  to  laugh  their 
heads  off  at  his  leaving  the  faith fulest  little  mouse 
a  lion  ever  was  blessed  with.  So  wouldn't  he  stop 
being  silly,  and  snuggle  close,  and  listen  to  some 
mouse-sense,  and  realize  that  this  was  her  affair  just 
as  much  as  his,  and  that  they  were  both  in  the  same 
boat,  or  rather  holding  on  tight  to  the  bottom  of  it  ? 
To  all  of  which  Mr.  Lion  acceded  meekly,  with  a 
dawning  sense  that  there  was  a  stronger  nature  than 
he  had  dreamed  behind  those  dark  eyes,  and  a  cour 
age  and  self-reliance  that  shamed  him  in  the  con 
trast. 

"Unfortunately  papa  has  to  be  left  out,"  she  con 
tinued.  "General  Mouse  would  have  a  fit  at  the  least 
notion  of  my  liking  anybody  who  hadn't  a  town 
house  and  a  country  house  and  a  yacht,  and  a  cast- 
iron  social  position,  studded  with  iron  nails  and 
spiked  on  top — and  family  heirlooms  that  his  great- 
grandmother  wore  at  Washington's  inauguration. 
That's  General  Mouse's  view,  and  he's  likely  to — 
squeak  terribly  at  a  poor  little  hundred-and-twelve- 
dollar  lion!  That's  the  bad  part  of  it;  the  good  is 
that  when  I'm  twenty-six  I  come  into  my  mother's 
money — three  smug  old  New  York  houses,  filled 
with  dentists  and  doctors  and  sub-letting  old  ladies 
who  have  seen  better  times — somewhere  between 
eight  and  nine  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Isn't  that 
nice,  Mr.  Lion?  Isn't  that  splendid?  Come,  cheer 
up,  and  say  it  is  worth  waiting  for!  Yes,  two  years 
and  ten  months  to  wait,  and  then  a  fearful  General 

140 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

Mouse  rumpus — and  me.  If  you  are  still  of  the 
same  mind,  that  is,  and  haven't  gone  off  in  another 
direction?  Though — " 

"Oh,  Chris!" 

"But  this  is  a  secret — I  have  to  be  sure  you  love 
me  first." 

"You  know  I  do." 

"But  awfully,  awfully  well — better  than  anything 
— just  terribly." 

"Yes." 

"Don't  smile  about  it — I  said  terribly." 

"I  was  thinking  of  all  that  money ;  it  frightens  me 
even  while  I'm  glad — to  be  called  a  fortune-hunter, 
and  heaven  knows  what — yet  I  didn't  know;  how 
was  I' to  know? — It's  staggering,  Chris;  I — I  am 
trying  to  get  used  to  it;  why,  we — we  can  get  mar 
ried." 

"That's  the  secret — before  then,  perhaps !" 

"Before  then?    Oh,  Chris,  Chris!" 

"I  don't  care  if  it's  only  one  room ;  I'm  not  afraid, 
Matt — only  sorry  about  papa,  and  the  way  he  is  sure 
to  take  it. — You  must  stay  here  and  get  something  to 
do,  no  matter  what  it  is,  and  as  soon  as  it  is  enough 
for  two,  I'll  come,  Matt,  dear — I'll  come,  if  it's  only 
seventy-five  dollars  a  month." 

Matt  gave  an  appalled  glance  about  the  room — at 
the  pictures,  the  tapestries,  the  rich,  dark,  old  furni 
ture — at  the  elegance,  luxury  and  beauty  that  every 
where  surrounded  him.  "You  couldn't,"  he  ex 
claimed,  overcome.  "You  don't  understand  what  it 

141 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

is  to  be  poor.  You  see  it  staged  and  dressed  up,  and 
with  a  row  of  footlights,  and  roses  climbing 
over  the  cardboard  cottage ;  but  it  isn't  like  that  at 
all,  Chris;  it's  ugly  and  detestable,  and  I  should  be 
the  most  selfish  brute  alive  to  let  you  do  such  a 
thing." 

"It  needn't  be  ugly  and  detestable,  Matt,"  she  re 
turned,  with  a  tender,  reproving  seriousness.  "The 
trouble  is  that  poor  people  are  usually  poorer  still 
in  taste,  and  are  horribly  oil-clothy,  and  given  to 
chromos  of  Swiss  lakes  and  screaming  green  carpets. 
We  won't  be  that  kind  of  poor,  and  I  promise  you  I'll 
surprise  you  how  well  I'll  manage,  and  how  pretty 
and  cozy  everything  will  be.  Other  people  have 
done  it  and  been  happy — and  we'll  do  it  and  be  hap 
pier.  No,  it's  settled,  Mr.  Lion,  and  if  you  fight 
about  it  any  more  I  shall  think  it  is  because  you 
really  do  not  want  me." 

"Oh,  Chris,  it  isn't  that.  God  knows  it  isn't  that. 
I — I — am  a  man,  and  I — " 

"And  you  never  can  remember  that  I'm  a  woman," 
she  interrupted  with  an  unshrinking  look.  "It  isn't 
very  fair  of  you,  is  it  ?  I  am  ten  years  more  grown 
up  than  you  are,  though  I'm  only  twenty-three ;  and 
I  am  ready  for  life  to  begin — greedy  for  it — greedy 
for  the  hurts  as  well  as  for  the  other  if  it's  with  a 
man  I  could  love.  What  would  you  do  in  my  place, 
I  ask  you  that  ?  Suppose  you  were  lying  here  in  a 
dragon  coat,  and  I  was  you — what  would  you  say 
then,  Matt?" 

142 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

"Just  what  you've  said,  of  course." 

"And  mean  it?" 

"With  all  my  heart." 

"And  would  you  be  afraid  ?" 

"No,  not  a  bit  afraid." 

"And  wouldn't  you  rather  risk  everything  than — 
than  wait  those  three  years — three  long,  lonely 
years?" 

"Yes,  I  would,  Chris — it  would  be  just  the  ques 
tion  whether  you  loved  me  well  enough,  wouldn't 
it?" 

"And  I  do." 

"Chris?" 

"Yes,  dearest." 

"It's  settled  then,  isn't  it?" 

"That's  for  you  to  say." 

"Me?    I  have  said  it." 

She  drew  his  head  to  her  bosom.  "The  mouse  was 
some  help  after  all,"  she  murmured  with  a  happy 
little  laugh.  "Lion  thought  he  was  at  the  jumping- 
off  place,  but  mousie  caught  his  beautiful,  frightened 
tail  just  in  time — though  it  took  an  awful  big  mouse- 
pull  to  save  him  from  going  over — and  now  she  is 
going  to  kiss  him  for  being  a  stay-at-home  work- 
lion,  and  ready  to  fight  the  whole  world  rather  than 
let  her  go." 

"It's  going  to  be  a  hard  business,  Chris." 

"I  know  it — but  you  mustn't  get  discouraged." 

"Manaswan  is  such  a  confoundedly  small  place; 
but  I  know  a  good  many  people,  and  that's  some- 

143 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

thing.  Anderson,  the  surveyor,  might  give  me  a  job. 
I  know  something  of  that,  you  know — a  great  deal." 

"Then  there  are  the  mills." 

"All  too  skilled  for  me,  I'm  afraid,  and  what's 
worse — unionized." 

"And  the  fire  department,  as  you  said.  A  sailor 
ought  to  make  a  good  fire-laddie." 

"That's  a  long  shot — politics,  you  know.  Pretty 
hopeless  for  an  outsider  to  break  in." 

"The  telephone  company  ?" 

"Yes,  I'll  try  them.  The  electric  branch  was  very 
thorough  at  the  academy.  I  could  take  a  dynamo  to 
pieces  once,  and,  what's  more,  put  it  together  again 
and  make  it  go." 

"You  see,  you  know  lots  more  than  you  thought 
you  did." 

"I'll  get  books  out  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  library  and 
brush  up  a  bit." 

"Yes,  do  that,  certainly." 

"And  there  is  Beckles'  Bank.  Beckles  is  such  a 
funny  old  fellow,  Chris — insatiable  about  the 
Islands,  and  specially  about  the  girls.  Has  dreams 
of  going  out  there,  I  fancy,  and  turning  Grand  Turk, 
the  fat  old  scallawag.  When  I  said  the  prettiest 
women  in  the  Pacific  came  from  Manihiki  and 
Uahine,  he  carefully  wrote  down  both  names  in  a 
little  book,  with  the  most  owlish  expression  you 
ever  saw — right  in  the  middle  of  stocks  and  bonds 
and  mortgages." 

"And  Doty.  Be  sure  and  remember  Mr.  Doty, 
144 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

Matt.    He  likes  you  awfully  well;  admires  you,  and 
looks  up  to  you  tremendously." 

"Oh,  I'll  manage  somehow — some  way.  And 
then  seventy-five  dollars  a  month,  and  you!" 

"But  try  to  save  every  penny  of  what  you  have 
and  I'll  begin  saving  my  allowance.  I  don't  want  to 
live  at  your  horrid  Mrs.  Sattane's.  We  must  have  a 
little  home  all  of  our  own." 

"Oh,  Chris,  when  you  say  that  it  seems  too  good 
to  be  true!  I  simply  can't  believe  it." 

"And  in  three  years  we'll  turn  out  a  dentist  and  go 
live  in  New  York,  and  perhaps  sooner  if  papa  comes 
round." 

"It's  dreadful  what  a  schemer  he'll  think  me, 
Chris.  It  almost  makes  me  wish  you  didn't  have  all 
that  money." 

"Not  when  he  knows  you  gave  up  a  fortune  rather 
than  betray  a  friend.  That  isn't  like  a  schemer,  is 
it?  It  will  all  settle  itself,  and  the  three  of  us  will 
live  happily  ever  afterward — for  he's  awfully  gen 
erous,  too,  Matt,  and  lovable  and  good  and  kind,  and 
when  he  knows  it's  love — real  love — he'll  melt — and 
in  a  year  or  two  he'll  think  he's  arranged  it  all  him 
self  and  be  quite  proud  of  it." 

"Well,  that's  a  long  way  off.  The  important  thing 
now  is  to  land  a  pay-envelope  every  Saturday  night, 
isn't  it?" 

"Important?    Oh,  Matt,  you  just  must!" 

"And  then  you'll  come — really  come?  Chris,  I 
still  can't  believe  it!" 

145 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"You  will  when  you've  got  seventy-five  dollars  a 
month." 

"I  may  not  even  reach  that  all  at  once.  God 
knows,  it  may  be  hard  to  get  forty." 

"That  will  be  a  start,  anyway,  and  if  we  do  have 
to  wait  a  little  my  allowance  will  be  mounting  up." 

"We  shan't  wait  if  I  can  help  it.  I'll  turn  the  old 
town  upside  down.  Oh,  Chris,  with  you  to  work  for 
what  couldn't  I  do !" 

She  rewarded  him  with  a  pressure  of  her  hand. 

"I  will  make  it  up  to  you,"  she  said.  "All  I  can 
give  you  is  love,  but  you  shall  have  more  of  it  than 
any  man  ever  had  before.  Remember  that  to-mor 
row,  won't  you,  and  think  of  our  little  home  together 
s — just  yours  and  mine — if  it's  only  two  rooms." 

Matt  strode  homeward  in  a  state  of  indescribable 
joy,  though  with  many  a  care  running  blackly 
through  the  bright  woof  of  his  hopes  and  raptures. 
He  was  pledged  to  a  desperate  plan,  and  one  that 
would  bring  down  on  him  a  universal  reproach ;  such 
a  marriage  would  shake  Manaswan  to  its  founda 
tions  and  unloose  a  torrent  of  gossip  that  would  be 
harder  to  endure  than  poverty  itself.  Alternately  he 
gloated  over  Chris'  fortune — those  "three  smug  old 
houses" — and  then  inconsistently  wished  them  to  the 
devil.  Matt  was  a  proud  man,  and  the  thought  of 
being  misrepresented  and  misjudged  was  more  than 
galling.  What  a  humiliating  figure  he  would  cut 
before  her  father  when  the  inevitable  day  of  reckon- 

146 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

ing  arrived!  He  would  be  seen  as  an  adventurer 
preying  on  innocence  and  wealth.  Yet  ever  before 
him,  quickening  his  pulses  and  stirring  him  with  de 
light,  was  Chris  herself,  with  upraised  lips  and  quiv 
ering  body  and  misty,  haunting  eyes,  all  her  young 
womanhood  his  to  take  by  the  divinest  of  divine 
rights.  No  wonder  that  his  hands  clenched ;  that  he 
put  by  every  doubt  and  scruple ;  that  his  determina 
tion  was  almost  brutal  in  its  intensity.  He  had 
passed  beyond  the  stage  where  he  could  give  her  up, 
or  even  consider  it. 

The  boarders,  assembled  at  supper,  found  him  at 
first  very  backward  and  moody,  while  he  found  them 
altogether  unendurable.  The  mean  dining-room, 
with  its  prattling  occupants,  was  purgatory  to  a  man 
in  the  throes  of  an  elemental  passion.  There  was 
a  new  boarder,  a  heavy,  gray-haired,  deferential  man 
with  a  gold  tooth,  who  was  ceremoniously  presented. 

"Two  good  fellows  ought  to  know  each  other," 
said  Mr.  Price,  taking  it  on  himself  to  make  the  in 
troduction.  "Mr.  Broughton— Mr.  Bates!"  Matt 
politely  expressed  his  gratification,  and  the  two  good 
fellows  subsided  into  their  respective  seats.  Mr. 
Bates,  as  it  appeared  later,  was  spying  out  the  land 
for  a  shoe-factory  site  in  the  interests  of  the  famous 
Walk  Eezee  Shoe  Company,  and  had  been  very 
much  impressed  by  the  possibilities  of  Manas  wan — 
yes,  sir — very  much  impressed.  At  this  Matt  waked 
up  and  cultivated  Mr.  Bates  as  a  potential  dispenser 
of  jobs ;  grew  very  animated  and  friendly ;  and  was 

147 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

more  than  pleased  to  learn  that  the  Walk  Eezee  Com 
pany  maintained  the  principle  of  the  "open  shop." 

Here  was  certainly  a  chance  for  a  non-union  man 
— or  a  shadowy  chance,  anyhow — and  Matt,  with 
shoe-factory  possibilities  dancing  in  his  head,  ab 
sorbed  himself  in  the  conquest  of  Mr.  Bates.  After 
supper,  over  a  pipe  and  a  cigar,  he  continued  the 
good  work,  even  broaching  the  subject  tentatively, 
and  receiving  encouragement.  A  new  factory — a 
Walk  Eezee  factory — was  a  big  enterprise,  with 
plenty  of  opportunities  for  energetic  young  men. 
The  trouble,  indeed,  was  to  find  them — chaps  with 
initiative  and  brains  and  stick-at-itiveness,  who  could 
"handle  labor."  Mr.  Bates  would  be  glad  to  put  him 
"in  the  way  of  something" ;  wrote  down  his  name  in 
a  large,  greasy  note-book ;  it  mightn't  be  very  much, 
but  "enough  to  get  his  teeth  in."  Mr.  Bates,  with 
his  own  gold  one  very  much  in  evidence,  repeated 
that  the  great  thing  was  to  get  your  teeth  in — the 
rest  was  easy  and  sure  if  you  had  the  needful  ability. 

With  a  feeling  that  he  already  had  a  bull-doggish 
grip  on  the  shoe  business,  Matt  said  good  night  and 
went  up  to  his  room,  more  than  satisfied  with  his 
evening's  work.  As  he  lit  a  match,  however,  and 
touched  it  to  the  gas,  he  was  confronted  by  a  sight 
that  drove  all  these  reflections  from  his  head.  The 
mattress  was  tumbled  and  bare ;  the  bureau-drawers 
were  open ;  his  clothes  were  strewn  about  everywhere 
in  pell-mell  confusion,  and  his  cheap  blue  ulster  lay 
slashed  and  destroyed,  with  every  inch  of  its  lining 

148 


THE  KEY  TO  PARADISE 

torn  away  and  littering  the  floor  in  melancholy  rib 
bons. 

The  room  had  been  searched  in  his  absence,  and 
the  moment  he  recovered  from  his  astonishment 
he  knew  by  whom.  They  had  been  there,  seeking  a 
clue,  a  scrap  of  paper,  anything  that  might  put  them 
on  John  Mort's  track.  Impelled  by  an  unaccountable 
instinct  he  ran  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  There 
below  him  under  the  street  lamp  were  two  men  in 
close  conversation.  All  at  once  they  turned  and 
gazed  upward,  revealing  the  faces  of  Mr.  Bates  and 
Mr.  Kay ;  and  then  they  passed  on  and  were  lost  in 
the  dim  street. 


149 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DISCHARGED 

THE  next  morning  Matt  was  scarcely  surprised 
to  learn  that  Mr.  Bates  had  departed.  The  rep 
resentative  of  the  Walk  Eezee  Shoe  Company  was 
no  more — in  any  boarder  sense — and  all  that  re 
mained  of  him  was  a  two-dollar  bill  on  his  dresser, 
and  Miss  Gibbs'  recollection  of  sundry  creakings  and 
tiptoeings  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  Yes,  he  had 
vanished,  that  quiet,  deferential,  gray-haired  per 
son  with  the  gold  tooth,  and  with  him  also  vanished 
Matt's  job  in  the  mythical  shoe  factory.  The  mar 
veling  boarders  would  have  marveled  more  could 
they  have  known  of  Matt's  devastated  room ;  but  this 
he  kept  to  himself,  and  professed  to  be  as  much  in 
the  dark  about  Mr.  Bates  as  any  one  else. 

Afterward  he  sallied  forth  in  his  best  clothes, 
and  as  spruce  and  well-groomed  as  he  could  make 
himself,  to  offer  his  services  in  what  Mr.  Price 
called,  not  without  sarcasm,  "the  busy  marts  of 
trade."  The  first  busy  mart  was  Mr.  Beckles'  bank, 
a  small  brick  structure  with  plate-glass  windows  and 
a  red-headed  cashier  in  a  cage.  Mr.  Beckles  received 
Matt  effusively  in  an  inner  office,  proffered  a  chair, 
and  seemed  readier  than  ever  to  talk  about  South 

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DISCHARGED 

Sea  maids,  and  the  respective  allurements  of  Mani- 
hiki  and  Uahine.  The  stout  old  dreamer  was  frankly 
and  unpleasantly  gross,  and  with  many  winks  and 
nudges  made  Matt  an  unwilling  confederate  in  his 
fantastic  imaginings.  They  were  to  sail  away  to 
gether,  in  some  undetermined  manner,  and  at  some 
undetermined  date,  and  acquire  a  bevy  of  beauty  that 
would  stagger  Mahomet;  to  live  thenceforth  like  the 
patriarchs,  waited  on  by  the  loveliest  of  naked 
nymphs,  and  fanned  to  sleep  in  the  arms  of  their 
favorites.  Hey,  it  would  be  great,  wouldn't  it  ?  Hey, 
they'd  do  it,  so  help  him  Moses ! 

Matt,  though  far  from  squeamish,  was  disagree 
ably  affected  by  all  this.  The  atrocious  hypocrisy  of 
the  old  fellow  jarred  on  him,  for  Mr.  Beckles  was  a 
pillar  of  the  church,  and  outwardly  at  least  main 
tained  a  rigid  respectability.  It  was  hardly  a  compli 
ment,  moreover,  that  his  own  acquiescence  should  be 
taken  for  granted.  He  would  have  been  wiser  in  his 
own  interest  had  he  pretended  to  a  greater  enthusi 
asm — lingered  over  and  amplified  these  voluptuous 
fancies  with  his  fuller  knowledge — pictured  the 
thing  somewhat  to  Mr.  Beckles'  incomplete  though 
glowing  imagination,  and  given  reality  to  those 
phantom  brown  odalisques.  Instead,  he  switched  off 
to  the  subject  of  his  job  with  a  suddenness  that  made 
the  Great  Turk  crimson  to  the  ears  and  assume  an 
expression  of  detected  guilt. 

Matt  left,  not  only  without  a  job,  but  with  the 
consciousness  of  an  active  ill-will  behind  him.  He 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

was  disquieted,  too,  to  learn  that,  in  spite  of  his  re 
iterated  denials,  he  was  regarded  as  a  rich  man ;  and 
if  not  actually  a  kanaka  king,  had  the  reputation  of 
owning  vast  and  far-away  estates  in  the  South  Pa 
cific.  Given  a  romantic  past  and  some  personal  at 
tractiveness,  how  easy  it  is,  with  a  dollar  thrown 
away  here  and  there,  to  raise  such  picturesque  illu 
sions.  The  difficulty,  indeed,  is  to  avoid  inspiring 
them.  Mr.  Beckles  had  been  shocked — really  shocked 
— and  bitterly  offended,  too,  at  the  truth.  He  would 
have  parted  easily  with  a  thousand  dollars  to  a 
swindler,  but  for  the  honest  man,  in  dire  need  of 
work,  he  had  nothing  save  a  curt  good  day. 

In  Anderson's  office  Matt  experienced  a  similar 
social  tumble  and  a  similar  rejection.  The  engineer 
was  at  first  incredulous,  and  then  downright  rude, 
for  he,  also,  had  a  shattered  illusion.  As  Matt 
left,  flushed  with  anger,  and  in  Anderson's  eyes 
a  convicted  cheat,  he  perceived  that  he  had  a 
better  chance  with  strangers  than  with  those  he 
deemed  his  friends.  The  telephone  superintend 
ent,  to  whom  he  applied  next,  had  no  acquaint 
ance  with  him — and  in  consequence  was  quite 
civil.  Courtesy  was  about  all  he  had  to  offer, 
for  the  company  was  "full  up"  and  had  "men  to 
burn."  With  this  forceful  colloquialism  Matt  was 
speeded  on  his  way  again,  to  try  for  a  spot  where  the 
fires  of  commerce  burned  less  brightly.  That  spot, 
however,  was  not  the  Western  Union,  nor  the  Buf 
falo  Brewery,  nor  the  Excelsior  Planing  Mill,  nor 

152 


DISCHARGED 

the  People's  Ice  Works,  to  which  in  turn  he  made  un 
availing  application. 

Of  course  he  could  have  gone  to  Daggancourt,  but 
at  that  his  pride  drew  the  line.  The  old  mulatto, 
considering  himself  deeply  ill-used,  had  shrunk  into 
his  shell,  and  adopted  a  mien  of  frozen  reproach. 
He  had  even  ceased  to  greet  Matt  any  longer,  pre 
tending  to  look  the  other  way  when  they  met,  or  as 
suming  an  abstracted  expression  in  which  there  was 
not  the  slightest  glint  of  recognition.  In  a  very 
quiet,  wooden-Indian  manner,  Matt  had  been  "cut," 
and  he  was  human  enough  and  foolish  enough  to 
resent  it,  although  he  knew  that  with  two  words  and 
an  outstretched  hand  he  could  instantly  have  recov 
ered  the  old  fellow's  friendship.  The  fact  that  he 
was  beginning  to  need  it  made  him  all  the  more  per 
verse.  This  was  illogical  and  unkind,  for  Victor 
had  ample  reason  to  be  wounded,  while  Matt  had 
none. 

He  sought  out  Mr.  Doty  instead — little,  flattered, 
eager  Mr.  Doty,  who  certainly  must  have  concealed 
angels'  wings  under  his  threadbare  coat.  Mr.  Doty 
was  sympathetic;  Mr.  Doty  understood;  there  was 
no  social  tumble  on  his  study  carpet,  but  a  very 
practical  consideration  of  Matt's  unhappy  circum 
stances. 

It  seemed  that  it  was  Mr.  Doty's  principal  occupa 
tion  to  find  jobs  for  the  jobless ;  in  Matt's  case  noth 
ing  could  be  simpler;  the  sea  for  the  sailor,  of 
course,  and  they  would  go  right  off  to  his  good 

153 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

friend,  Captain  Jim  Bain,  who  owned  half  the  coast 
ing  craft  out  of — 

Oh,  but  Matt  wished  to  stay  in  Manaswan!  Oh, 
the  old  story — I  see,  I  see — a  young  lady,  and  all 
the  rest  of  it!  Well,  well,  well!  Let  Mr.  Doty 
think,  let  Mr.  Doty  think ! 

Half  an  hour  afterward  Matt  was  formally  en 
gaged  as  physical  instructor  to  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association  at  a  salary  of  sixty  dollars  a 
month.  It  was  a  struggling  institution,  situated  in 
what  had  lately  been  a  disreputable  hotel  and  dance 
place,  and  so  near  the  mills  that  it  perpetually  shiv 
ered  with  the  whir  of  machinery.  Unlike  its  sisters 
elsewhere,  the  Manaswan  Y.  M.  C.  A.  was  poorly 
supported,  either  by  the  moneyed  people  of  the  town 
or  the  horde  of  illiterate  foreigners  whom  it  was  in 
tended  to  uplift;  and  it  wore  a  dejected  aspect,  like 
that  of  a  forlorn  hope  whose  courage  had  oozed 
away  at  the  sight  of  the  enemy. 

Mr.  Cummins,  the  superintendent,  a  very  low- 
voiced  young  man  with  eye-glasses,  laid  less  stress 
on  Matt's  capabilities  as  a  physical  instructor  than 
whether  he  would  be  prepared  to  "help  out."  That 
had  been  the  trouble  with  the  previous  instructors — 
they  wouldn't  "help  out."  Diplomas  and  degrees 
were  all  right,  but  what  Mr.  Cummins  really  wanted 
was  a  young  man  that  would  "help  out."  "Cheer 
fully,"  added  Mr.  Cummins,  with  an  air  of  extreme 
depression,  as  though  burdening  the  camel  with  the 

154 


DISCHARGED 

last  straw.  Would  Matt  help  out  cheerfully?  Matt 
promptly  replied  that  he  would,  and  smiling  broadly 
to  prove  it,  inquired  for  a  more  precise  definition  of 
helping  out. 

This,  it  seemed,  included  washing  the  gymnasium 
windows,  scrubbing  the  gymnasium  floor,  drying  the 
bathing  suits,  cleansing  the  swimming  tank,  checking 
the  towels,  doing  whatever  painting  or  varnishing 
was  required  in  the  building,  oiling  and  cleaning  a 
dozen  typewriter  machines,  and  volunteering — 
cheerfully — for  any  further  services  that  might  be 
needed. 

Matt's  answers  were  so  satisfactory  that  he  soon 
found  himself  on  the  roof,  in  a  suit  of  borrowed  over 
alls,  assisting  a  deaf  and  dumb  Swede  in  reshingling 
it.  Here,  high  above  the  street,  and  with  a  superb 
view  of  the  flashing  dam  that  provided  the  mills 
with  power,  he  crawled  over  the  roof  with  his  mouth 
full  of  nails,  and  perched  himself  on  the  edge  of 
eternity.  The  deaf  and  dumb  instructions  were  hard 
to  follow ;  moreover,  they  were  impatient,  and  often 
accompanied  by  scornful  jabs  that  were  calculated 
to  land  him  in  the  street ;  but  Matt  held  on  tight, 
and  even  burst  out  laughing  at  the  absurdity  of  his 
position. 

By  degrees  he  won  deaf  and  dumb  approval ;  got 
some  pats  on  the  back;  and  soon  was  sharing  an 
amiable  pipe  and  pounding  nails  unmolested.  He 
had  been  so  long  idle  that  the  work  was  enjoyable ; 
he  whistled  as  he  thought  of  his  sixty  dollars  a 

155 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

month;  before  long,  what  with  "helping  out,"  and 
"cheerfulness,"  it  would  be  augmented  to  seventy- 
five,  and  then — !  Hammer,  hammer,  hammer — 
everything  was  coming  his  way.  Hammer,  hammer, 
hammer — if  only  Chris  could  see  him  now!  Ham 
mer,  hammer,  hammer — and  it  was  a  lot  to  be  young 
and  vigorous  and  alive,  and  it  would  all  happen  just 
as  she  said  it  would. 

At  six  they  knocked  off  and  descended  through 
the  skylight  to  the  ghostly,  silent  interior  below. 
Matt  reported  at  the  ofHce  and  was  told  to  return  at 
seven-thirty  for  his  classes.  Mr.  Cummins  had 
thawed  perceptibly ;  a  physical  instructor  who  could 
shingle  was  a  gratifying  acquisition;  he  gave  Matt  a 
dog-eared  volume  entitled  Simple  Gymnastics,  to 
gether  with  a  chart  representing  the  different  posi 
tions  for  Holt's  Manly  Exerciser.  It  was  tacitly 
assumed  that  Matt's  knowledge  needed  refreshing, 
which  indeed  was  so  much  the  case  that  he  hurried 
through  his  supper  at  a  ten-cent  restaurant  in  order 
to  fortify  himself  for  what  was  to  come. 

He  returned  to  find  the  gymnasium  swarming 
with  young  Hungarians  in  black  tights  and  singlets, 
and  the  swimming  tank  beyond  crowded  with  hi 
larious  bathers.  His  "classes"  were  going  on  merrily 
without  him,  and  his  appearance  in  their  midst 
seemed  almost  an  intrusion.  Black  legs  were  swing 
ing  over  trapezes ;  panting  youngsters  were  pulling 
at  the  exercisers  along  the  wall;  others  were  con 
torting  themselves  on  mattresses,  or  turning  frantic 

156 


DISCHARGED 

somersaults;  the  punching-bag  was  reverberating 
loudly,  and  about  it  rose  a  quarrelsome  outcry,  as 
half  a  dozen  tried  to  get  to  it  at  once.  The  athletic 
side  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  was  well  patronized,  how 
ever  small  the  attendance  might  be  in  the  other  de 
partments. 

Matt  moved  about,  wondering  what  he  was  to  do, 
and  finally  decided  not  to  do  anything  beyond  keep 
ing  order  and  encouraging  some  of  the  more  back 
ward.  Whenever  he  saw  any  one  looking  at  all  help 
less  and  abashed  in  the  general  pandemonium,  he 
went  up  to  him  and  started  him  pulling  at  a  Holt's 
Manly  Exerciser.  He  stopped  a  fist  fight  and  sent 
the  culprits  home;  stopped  a  good  deal  of  more 
or  less  boisterous  horseplay,  and  gradually  asserted 
a  quiet  but  effective  authority.  They  were  a  very 
manageable  set,  taking  it  all  in  all,  much  more  so 
than  the  same  number  of  young  Americans  would 
have  been,  and  when  Mr.  Cummins  arrived  on  a 
flying  visit  to  see  how  the  new  instructor  was  get 
ting  on,  Matt  was  not  a  little  pleased  to  be  com 
mended. 

By  ten  the  gymnasium  was  clear,  and  he  was  free 
to  return  home,  which  he  did  with  the  Simple  Gym 
nastics  under  his  arm  and  the  chart  of  the  Manly 
Exerciser  in  his  pocket — the  tiredest  man  in  Manas- 
wan,  and  the  happiest.  He  had  got  a  job;  he  had 
'already  won  praise;  he  foresaw  promotion  and 
Chris !  He  sat  down  and  scratched  off  a  glad  little 
note;  the  good  news  was  too  big  to  keep;  Chris 

157 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

should  learn  by  the  morning's  mail  that  he  had  been 
unexpectedly — gloriously  successful. 

At  breakfast  there  was  one  from  her,  which  he 
tore  open  and  read  with  a  sickening,  deadly  disap 
pointment.  It  ran : 

"DEAREST  : 

"It  did  not  seem  right  not  to  tell  papa,  and  now 
all  that  is  left  of  me  is  a  poor,  limp  little 
coward  in  the  blackest  disgrace.  It  was  worse 
than  his  being  cross — I  could  have  stood  that — but 
he  took  it  dreadfully — more  than  I  can  ever  bring 
myself  to  tell  you.  I  have  promised  not  to  see  you 
for  three  whole  months,  and  not  to  write  to  you 
again,  except  this,  and  I  promised  for  you,  too — to 
do  the  same.  Please,  please  don't  blame  me  too 
much  or  reproach  me.  I  had  no  choice,  really  I  had 
not,  and  even  the  three  months  was  a  tremendous 
concession.  He  insisted  I  would  forget  you  in 
three  months,  and  it  seemed  wiser  to  take  it  as  a  sort 
of  challenge,  specially  when  he  said  I  would  be 
grateful  to  him  all  the  days  of  my  life.  I  must  just 
show  him  that  three  months  won't  make  the  least, 
tiny  difference — and  then  say,  Papa,  I  can't  help  it, 
but  I  love  him  more  than  ever.  My  darling,  I  will, 
I  will,  I  will,  and  do  not  doubt  it  or  my  heart  will 
break.  He  has  a  right  to  know  that  it  is  serious, 
hasn't  he  ?  That's  what  he  said,  over  and  over  again, 
till  I  gave  way.  It  commits  him  to  admitting  it 
afterward,  and  will  leave  him  without  any  argu 
ment.  At  any  rate,  I  shall  obey  him  for  these  three 
months,  and  then  if  he  doesn't  change,  you  can  come 
and  get  me. 

"I  am  determined  not  to  wait  a  minute  longer 

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DISCHARGED 

than  that,  papa  or  no  papa,  and  what  you  must  do  is 
to  work  hard,  and  be  able  to  support  us  when  the 
time  comes.  I  have  to  take  your  answer  for  granted 
as  I  solemnly  promised  you  would  not  write  to  me. 
Please  don't,  my  darling,  for  otherwise  you  will  add 
to  my  disgrace  and  make  papa  think  I  have  no  in 
fluence  with  you. 

"We're  going  to  Washington  to-day  so  that  I  may 
be  'distracted.'  I  shall  be  that  in  all  truth,  but  not  in 
papa's  sense,  and  with  a  heart  like  lead  at  leaving 
you.  Don't  blame  me  too  much,  for  I  love  him,  too, 
you  know,  better  than  anything  in  the  world  except 
you.  Try  not  to  feel  too  badly,  and  remember  I 
shall  be  thinking  of  you  every  minute  of  the  time. 
I  dread  to  stop  as  I  have  said  everything  so  badly, 
but  it  is  not  the  you  I  love  if  you  do  not  under 
stand.  You  will,  won't  you?  And  love  me  better 
than  ever,  and  don't  forget  that  I  will  come. 

"CHRIS." 

Matt  re-read  the  letter  many  times,  and  his  first 
sensation  of  utter  abandonment  imperceptibly  altered 
to  a  more  sanguine  view.  They  were  both  saved,  at 
least,  the  shame  of  a  clandestine  affair,  with  its  un 
avoidable  and  mortifying  discovery.  Better  to  tell 
the  general  than  to  let  him  find  out — Chris  had  been 
right  there — bravely  right.  Maybe  she  had  shown 
good  sense,  too,  in  conceding  the  three  months,  how 
ever  bitter  they  might  be  to  live  through.  Yes,  he 
"understood"  very  well.  Chris  had  accepted  in  the 
spirit  of  a  test,  and  the  general  would  find  it  im 
possible  to  impose  new  conditions.  It  was  much  to 
be  thankful  for  that  he  had  not  made  it  a  year.  It 

159 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

would  have  been  so  easy  for  him  to  make  it  a  year. 
Three  months  would  give  Matt  time  to  solidify  his 
position  in  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  and  apply  leverage  to 
that  sixty  dollars  a  month;  the  world  that  loved  a 
lover  surely  included  Mr.  Cummins ;  besides,  a  help 
ing-out,  cheerful  instructor  would  soon  be  worth 
that  extra  fifteen. 

No,  all  was  not  lost,  though  it  was  a  smarting, 
jealous  business  to  have  Chris  whisked  away  to  be 
courted  and  run  after  in  Washington.  He  choked  at 
the  thought,  and  raged  afresh  at  his  own  impotence 
and  poverty.  Who  was  he  to  hold  such  a  woman — 
young,  beautiful,  and  an  heiress?  She  would  meet 
better  men  every  day,  and  could  not  but  contrast 
them  with  himself.  Her  father  would  always  be  at 
hand,  that  cool,  shrewd,  implacable  father,  for  ever 
inclining  the  scales  against  him.  Yet  there  was 
something  steadfast  in  Chris  that  it  was  immensely 
comforting  to  recall,  something  frank  and  fearless 
and  smilingly  resolute.  She  had  contributed  all  the 
courage,  had  made  all  the  plans.  His  own  part  had 
been  one  of  helplessness  throughout,  and  obedience 
to  a  braver  will — humiliating  reflections,  but  not 
without  reassurance.  All  he  had  was  love,  and  he 
had  lain  like  a  dog  at  her  feet,  leaving  the  rest  to 
her.  That's  how  it  had  been — the  brains,  the  initia 
tive,  the  contriving — all  hers.  Why,  then,  should  he 
doubt  her  now?  Analyzed,  it  seemed  very  foolish. 
His  evident  duty  was  to  carry  out  her  instructions, 
and  get  seventy-five  dollars  a  month.  That  was 

1 60 


DISCHARGED 

what  the  braver  will  had  decreed,  and  he  should  set 
himself  to  it,  faithfully,  unquestioningly. 

He  took  the  road  to  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Association  with  a  dogged  determination  not  to  bor 
row  trouble,  studying  the  Simple  Gymnastics  on 
the  way,  and  cramming  what  he  could  of  it  into  his 
seething  and  tormented  head.  Stopping  at  a  store, 
in  accordance  with  Mr.  Cummins'  request  of  over 
night,  he  chose  a  suit  of  overalls  and  the  regulation 
tights  and  singlet — which  were  charged — and  a 
couple  of  coarse,  blue  flannel  shirts  which  he  paid 
for- — and  went  on,  with  the  parcel  under  his  arm. 

He  changed  his  clothes  in  the  gymnasium,  which 
was  as  lifeless  as  the  rest  of  the  building,  and  applied 
himself  vigorously  to  his  task.  In  a  couple  of  hours 
the  floors  had  been  scrubbed,  the  windows  cleaned, 
the  apparatus  polished,  the  bathing  suits  set  out  in 
long  lines  to  dry,  and  the  tank  ready  for  a  new  in 
flux  of  young  mill  hands.  Then  he  went  up  to  join 
the  deaf  and  dumb  Swede  on  the  roof,  who  greeted 
him  with  inarticulate  cries,  like  those  of  a  walrus  on 
a  rock,  and  a  welcoming  wave  of  the  hammer.  Matt 
crawled  over,  shook  hands,  lit  his  pipe,  and  was  soon 
shingling  with  a  professional  deliberation,  not  to 
say  slowness,  that  his  companion  insisted  on. 

Thus  the  long  day  passed,  and  the  busy,  noisy 
evening  came  and  went,  and  one's  head  was  no 
sooner  on  the  pillow  than  it  seemed  time  to  rise 
again.  The  days  that  followed  were  all  alike,  and 
by  degrees  the  world  contracted  till  it  consisted  of 

161 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

nothing  but  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  at  one  end  and  Mrs. 
Sattane's  at  the  other,  with  a  mile  of  streets  between. 
Yet  Matt  was  not  unhappy;  you  need  leisure  to  be 
unhappy;  and  he  was  sustained,  moreover,  by  a  de 
termination  to  succeed.  That  he  was  doing  so  was 
indubitable;  Mr.  Cummins  was  friendliness  itself; 
Mr.  Phelps  and  Mr.  Stader,  the  assistants,  had  been 
taught  to  swim,  and  were  correspondingly  grateful; 
that  vague,  impressive  body,  "the  directors,"  had 
been  statistically  cheered  by  an  increased  attendance, 
which  included  a  "business  men's  class,"  that  swung 
dumb-bells  and  moved  to  music  every  Tuesday  and 
Friday  night 

Altogether,  the  new  instructor  had  good  reason 
to  be  satisfied,  and  might  look  forward  to  a  raise  in 
salary  as  something  he  had  well  earned.  He  would 
not  overreach  himself,  however,  by  asking  for  it 
prematurely;  he  was  too  wary  for  that,  and  was 
playing  for  too  big  a  stake.  With  only  three  weeks 
gone  from  the  three  months,  he  felt  he  had  no  time 
to  spare. 

The  change  in  his  circumstances  had  cost  him 
much  of  his  former  social  popularity,  and  as  he  was 
at  no  pains  to  preserve  the  little  that  remained  he 
was  soon  dropped  by  those  who  had  once  entertained 
and  run  after  him.  The  young  women  of  his  ac 
quaintance  were  less  snobbish  than  their  parents,  and 
some  strove  hard  to  keep  him,  even  though  he  had 
fallen  so  far  from  his  bygone  glory;  but  he  had 
no  time  to  pay  calls  or  go  to  parties;  no  money  to 

162 


DISCHARGED 

spend,  and  was  wholly  engrossed  in  the  one  single- 
hearted  purpose  of  his  life.  They  might  write  him 
scented  notes,  or  waylay  him  on  the  street,  but  noth 
ing  could  lure  him  back;  and  several  pretty  faces 
grew  very  overcast  indeed,  and  finally  passed  him  by 
with  their  pretty  noses  in  the  air.  It  cost  him  a 
pang,  of  course;  Matt  would  not  have  been  human 
if  it  had  not ;  but  he  had  to  concentrate  every  faculty 
in  qualifying  for  that  seventy-five  a  month,  and  sav 
ing  what  he  could  of  his  sixty.  So  socially  he  died, 
and  was  buried,  and  Manaswan  knew  him  no  more. 

One  morning  Mr.  Cummins  called  him  into  the 
office,  and  fidgeting  with  some  papers  in  his  hand,  re 
garded  Matt  with  considerable  embarrassment. 

"I'm  afraid  I  have  bad  news  for  you,"  he  said,  in 
his  very  low  voice.  "I  have  been  told  to  let  you  go." 

"Discharge  me?"  exclaimed  Matt,  unable  to  be 
lieve  his  ears.  "You  don't  mean  that  I  am — fired?" 

Mr.  Cummins  nodded,  with  an  expression  almost 
as  woebegone  as  Matt's.  "It's  none  of  my  doing, 
Broughton,"  he  explained.  "You  are  the  best  man 
I  have  ever  had  in  that  department,  and  it  came  like 
a  thunderclap  to  me.  It's  worse  than  unjust,  and  I 
said  so  flat  out — but  orders  are  orders,  and  I  am  only 
the  paid  superintendent  under  the  board." 

"But  what  do  they  complain  of?" 

Mr.  Cummins  hesitated. 

"The  funny  thing  is  that  I  don't  know,"  he  re 
plied  at  last.  "I  couldn't  get  a  reason  out  of  one  of 
them.  But  somehow  they  are  prejudiced  against 

163 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

you, — have  instructed  me  to  dismiss  you  at  once. 
Your  only  means  of  getting  back  at  them  is  to  de 
mand  a  full  month's  salary,  and  if  I  were  you,  I 
would  do  it,  and  sue  them  if  they  refuse." 

Matt's  lip  curled.  "Give  me  what  I  have  earned," 
he  said.  "To  take  more  would  be  like  robbing  the 
poor-box.  If  I'm  out — I'm  out — and  that's  the  end 
of  it." 

"A  very  Christian  way  to  take  it,  Broughton — a 
very  Christian  and  praiseworthy  way  to  take  it.  Get 
your  things,  and  Mr.  Phelps  will  settle  with  you  at 
the  desk." 

Matt  was  settled  with  at  the  desk  by  Mr.  Phelps, 
and  left  the  building  with  a  check  for  forty-seven  dol 
lars,  a  paper  package  containing  his  overalls,  a  flan 
nel  shirt,  his  black  tights  and  singlet,  and  within  his 
breast  a  heavy  and  anxious  heart.  The  world  was 
before  him  again,  and  that  seventy-five  dollars  was 
farther  away  than  ever. 


164 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

FORLORN  and  discouraged,  Matt  sought  out 
the  only  man  in  Manaswan  that  he  could  rely 
on.  He  needed  more  than  a  job ;  he  needed  a  friend, 
and  where  else  was  he  more  likely  to  find  one  than  in 
Victor's  garage  ? 

Daggancourt  was  working  over  a  car,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  had  been  nudged  by  a  helper  that  he 
straightened  himself,  and  recognized  Matt.  He  tried 
to  look  unconcerned,  but  there  was  a  telltale  quiver 
of  the  cheek,  and  a  startled,  constrained  air  about 
him  which  showed  his  agitation.  He  grasped  Matt's 
extended  hand  in  both  his  own  and  bent  his  gray  old 
head  to  hide  his  emotion. 

"We've  both  been  fools,  Victor,"  said  Matt.  "I 
was  ashamed  to  tell  you  that  they  had  stolen  my 
money — yes,  got  clean  away  with  it  in  San  Francisco 
— and  then  you  took  it  all  wrong  and  froze  up  like 
a  silly  old  iceberg.  I  wasn't  very  considerate,  I'll 
admit,  and  I'm  sorry,  and — " 

"That's  all  right,  Marse'  Broughton,"  interrupted 
the  mulatto,  lapsing  into  a  broader  accent  than  was 
his  wont.  "A  gentleman  can't  say  more  than  he's 
sorry,  and  God  knows  you  have  made  me  mighty 

165 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

glad  and  thankful.  I  didn't  understand,  that's  all — 
I  didn't  understand." 

"I'm  pretty  hard  pushed,  Victor.  Can  you  find 
me  anything  here?" 

"Find  you  anything  here,  sir?" 

"Yes,  a  job.  It  needn't  be  anything  much  to  be 
gin  with.  Let  me  wash  cars — anything." 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that,  Marse'  Broughton?" 

Daggancourt  was  shocked,  and  slowly  took  in 
Matt's  shabby  appearance  and  his  tanned,  careworn 
face.  "Well,  if  that  doesn't  break  me  all  up  to  hear 
you  say  that." 

"Can  you  make  room  for  me  ?" 

The  mulatto  reflected. 

"It  isn't  much  of  a  business,"  he  said,  indicating 
the  garage.  "It  don't  pay  like  mules — but  if  you 
care  to  come  in  as  partner,  you  can  have  half  of 
what  there  is." 

"But  I  haven't  a  cent,  Victor.  I  didn't  mean  any 
thing  like  that.  I  meant  a  job — two  dollars  a  day, 
perhaps." 

"I  didn't  expect  any  money,  Marse'  Broughton. 
You  misjudge  me  when  you  say  that.  They  call  me 
a  cranky  old  nigger,  and  it  may  be  I  am,  but  I  am 
most  awful  cranky  in  liking  you — and  if  you  are 
willing,  sure  I  am." 

The  generosity  of  the  offer  overcame  Matt,  but 
he  could  not  bring  himself  to  take  advantage  of  it. 
The  garage,  small  as  it  was,  represented  the  savings 
of  years;  and  to  appropriate  half  and  give  nothing 

1 66 


A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

but  his  unskilled  services  in  return  was  simply  im 
possible.  It  was  finally  arranged,  however,  that  he 
was  to  be  engaged  at  seventy-five  dollars  a  month 
as  "demonstrator"  of  the  Jonesmobile,  with  a  per 
centage  on  all  sales  he  might  make. 

Victor  had  recently  acquired  the  agency  for  this 
vehicle,  which  was  a  spidery,  buggy  contrivance  on 
carriage  wheels  that  sold  for  four  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  and  was  supposed  to  make  a  peculiar  appeal 
to  farmers.  Even  to  Matt's  unpracticed  eyes  it  had 
a  queer  look,  as  though  it  had  lost  its  Buggins  and 
was  wondering  what  had  become  of  its  shafts;  but 
Daggancourt  was  technically  enthusiastic  and 
prophesied  vast  possibilities.  A  Jonesmobile  could 
climb  anything,  and  go  anywhere,  and  had  an  ex 
tension  back  that  would  hold  a  calf  or  a  sack  of  po 
tatoes.  It  could  also  be  jacked  up  to  churn  butter, 
or  saw  wood,  or  do  the  family  washing;  and  there 
was  a  little  book  with  pictures  of  it  performing 
these  prodigies  and  winning  universal  esteem. 
Farmers  were  quoted  who  "did  not  know  how  they 
had  ever  got  along  without  it,"  and  others  whose 
annual  repair  bills  varied  from  twelve  to  forty-nine 
cents;  and  there  were  unblushing  accounts  of  con 
tinental  trips  and  the  ascent  of  Pike's  Peak  by  this 
barnyard  favorite  in  its  off  hours. 

Matt's  instructions  began  at  once,  and  very  de 
lightful  and  inspiring  it  was,  too,  as  he  hung  over 
Daggancourt,  elucidating  mysteries,  and  asking  a 
pupil's  innumerable  questions.  Occasionally  cars 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

ran  in  that  required  gasolene  or  water,  or  a  small 
adjustment,  or  a  tire  changed — and  then  Matt  be 
stirred  himself  to  be  useful,  if  only  it  were  to  pump 
till  he  was  crimson,  or  hand  tools  to  Mack  or  Louey. 
With  his  seventy-five  dollars  assured,  an  interest 
ing  occupation  before  him,  and  a  partnership  when 
ever  he  chose  to  take  it — he  felt  that  all  his  troubles 
were  over  and  that  his  foot  at  last  was  on  the  ladder 
of  independence.  He  was  in  a  glow  of  contentment 
and  good-will;  Daggancourt,  the  Jonesmobile,  the 
lathes  and  drills,  and  the  whole  long,  low,  dark 
garage  was  seen  in  the  reflection  of  that  inner  sun 
shine.  Sitting  in  the  climber  of  Pike's  Peak,  and 
teetering  to  and  fro  under  the  guidance  of  a  black 
paw,  he  leaped  in  imagination  to  fortune  and  to 
Chris. 

Before  the  week  was  out  he  was  a  full-fledged 
"demonstrator"  and  able  to  run  the  Jonesmobile  al 
most  as  well  as  he  could  talk  it.  He  knew  all  aoout 
batteries  now,  and  buzzers,  and  check  valves,  and 
commutators  and  frozen  gears,  and  had  accumu 
lated  memories  of  lonely  roads  and  long  walks  to 
the  nearest  telephone  for  help.  Sometimes  it  was 
the  Jonesmobile's  fault,  though  often  as  not  his,  and 
many  a  big  laugh  went  up  in  the  garage  at  his  ex 
pense.  He  swept  daily  over  the  countryside,  with 
his  lunch  in  the  tool-box,  and  stopped  at  every  likely 
farm-house  with  an  invitation  for  a  ride. 

He  made  an  excellent  salesman ;  the  women  liked 
his  good-looking  face  and  pleasant  manners;  the 

1 68 


A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

men,  while  they  victimized  him  without  mercy,  never 
ruffled  his  patience  nor  extorted  from  him  an  angry 
word.  Lean  old  grafters  with  no  more  intention  of 
buying  a  Jonesmobile  than  an  airship  were  carried 
hundreds  of  miles  and  regularly  saved  up  their  town 
errands  till  they  could  get  "that  there  city  feller 
with  the  benzine  buggy."  They  would  lead  him  on 
with  a  beautifully  pretended  indecision,  and  then 
would  be  found  in  a  competitor's  car,  shamelessly 
repeating  the  performance. 

Matt,  too,  was  poorly  supported  by  the  Jones- 
mobile.  Nothing  ever  went  wrong  with  it  as  long 
as  it  bore  one  of  these  amiable  swindlers,  but  once 
there  was  a  genuine,  eager,  would-be  purchaser  in 
the  seat  its  tendency  was  to  sputter  and  give  out. 
It  seemed  to  save  up  every  disaster  for  these  rare 
occasions;  wheels  came  off,  spark-plugs  cracked, 
carburetors  decided  to  carburet  no  more — as  the 
sale  was  on  the  eve  of  being  clenched. 

But,  everything  considered,  Matt  did  very  well. 
In  eighteen  days  he  sold  two  cars,  pocketing  a 
ten-dollar  commission  on  each.  Victor  was  jubi 
lant;  keep  up  that  record  and  they  would  be  rich; 
keep  up  that  record  and  in  a  year  they  might  sell 
out  and  go  to  mule-raising.  The  old  fellow  still 
dreamed  of  Kentucky  and  that  little  cabin  in  the 
blue  hills. 

It  was  an  agreeable  gypsy  sort  of  life.  It  had  the 
open-air  charm  of  a  bandit's,  with  none  of  the  risk, 
but  the  same  possibilities  of  sudden  rich  prizes.  A 
*..  169 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

thousand  farms  invited  attack,  and  the  prowling 
Jonesmobile,  often  in  the  guise  of  a  wayfarer  want 
ing  the  right  road,  or  the  favor  of  a  glass  of  milk, 
insinuated  itself  into  many  a  defenseless  household. 
It  was  part  of  Matt's  policy,  also,  to  give  a  lift  to 
any  trudging,  weary  figure  on  foot ;  to  pick  up  chil 
dren  on  their  way  to  school  or  home ;  to  take  advan 
tage  of  every  opportunity  to  offer  assistance  and  a 
copy  of  the  little  book.  Spring  was  well  advanced ; 
all  nature  was  green  and  budding;  it  was  exhilarat 
ing  to  dart  along  in  the  Jonesmobile,  making  strange 
acquaintances  and  looking  for  adventures,  and  never 
knowing  what  there  might  be  in  store  at  the  next 
turn  of  the  road. 

It  was  sad,  indeed,  when  it  came  to  an  end.  One 
evening,  after  supper,  Daggancourt  took  Matt  to 
one  side  and  with  profound  depression  said  that  it 
was  "all  up."  7 

"It  came  like  a  bum-shell,"  he  quavered.  "You 
know,  I  started  the  business  on  nothing,  four  years 
ago,  and  borrowed  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  of 
old  Farelly,  the  money-lender,  at  twelve  per  cent. 
The  banks  wouldn't  have  looked  at  it,  for  all  I  had 
was  a  kit  of  tools  and  a  name  for  being  honest,  and 
it  was  Farelly's  own  idea  when  the  place  came  under 
the  hammer.  I  had  worked  for  him  once,  and  he 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  often  saying  that  no  Jew 
ought  to  throw  stones  at  a  colored  man ;  so  that  was 
how  I  got  the  garage,  and  I  met  the  interest  every 
month,  right  to  the  last  cent — every  month,  for 

170 


A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

four  years,  as  regular  as  clockwork,  though  I  never 
managed  to  get  ahead  much  on  the  principal,  and 
mighty  pressed  at  times  to  manage  that." 

"Well,  go  on/'  said  Matt,  as  Victor  choked  back 
a  sob. 

"I  thought  he  was  a  very  fine  man/'  the  latter 
continued.  "There  was  nobody  I  looked  up  to  like 
old  Mr.  Farelly,  and  though  folks  spoke  against 
him,  and  called  him  a  Shylock,  I  knew  better — for 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  him  I  should  still  have  been 
working  for  wages.  Twelve  per  cent,  was  mighty 
high,  but  not  too  high,  considering  the  security, 
which  didn't  amount  to  a  hill  of  beans — and  I  never 
grudged  a  penny  of  the  interest  and  paid  it  most 
pleased  and  grateful.  Now  to-day  he  comes  up  to 
me  and  says,  old  Farelly  does — out  of  a  clear  sky, 
and  without  the  least  warning,  just  as  he  was  writ 
ing  the  receipt  in  my  office  with  a  fountain-pen :  'I 
have  to  call  in  that  twenty-five  hundred,  Victor,  and 
will  ask  you  to  make  an  immediate  settlement.'  I 
said:  'Marse'  Farelly,  that  isn't  fair;  as  God  sees 
us,  that  isn't  fair,  and  I  could  no  more  do  it  than  I 
could  fly/  Then  he  flubbles  with  his  fountain-pen, 
and  sticks  it  back  most  careful  in  his  vest-pocket, 
and  says :  Then  you'll  have  to  get  out !'  " 

"And  didn't  he  make  any  explanation?" 

"No,  Marse'  Broughton,  he  did  not  make  any  ex 
planation,  though  when  I  thought  of  the  little  busi 
ness,  and  of  you  doing  so  splendidly  with  the  Jones- 
mobile,  and  perhaps  our  going  away  together  to 

171 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Kentucky,  I  almost  went  down  on  my  knees  to  him. 
It's  hard  for  a  man  to  demean  himself — get  right 
down  and  eat  dirt — but  I  did  it,  Marse'  Broughton, 
and  I  pleaded  and  begged  something  awful,  for  the 
business  is  just  beginning  to  pay,  and  it  was  almost 
like  I  had  been  robbed  of  it.  In  the  eyes  of  God  I 
am  being  robbed  of  it,  for  it's  mine,  and  Ought  to 
stay  mine  as  long  as  I  paid  his  interest,  which  I  did, 
month  in,  month  out,  no  matter  how  it  pinched. 
But  he  wouldn't  listen  to  a  word,  Marse'  Broughton 
— not  a  word,  though  I  got  out  the  books  and 
wanted  to  show  him  in  black  and  white  how  well  I 
stood.  But  he  pushed  them  away,  saying  'money 
talks/  and  what  he  wanted  was  his,  or  I'd  be  sold 
up." 

Matt's  attention  was  disturbed  by  a  thought  that 
grew  and  grew  more  insistent  as  the  mulatto  poured 
out  the  tale  of  Farelly's  amazing  perfidy.  He  re 
membered  his  singular  dismissal  from  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  and,  incredible  as  it  might  seem,  asked  him 
self  whether  there  was  not  some  connection  between 
it  and  this  unexpected  catastrophe ;  and  whether  be 
hind  both  there  was  not,  somehow  or  other,  a  mys 
terious  connection  with  Mr.  Kay.  With  a  dawning 
fear  of  something  deeper  and  more  underhanded  in 
the  old  money-lender's  action  than  Victor  had  any 
idea  of,  he  interrupted  the  latter  to  make  certain 
that  Farelly  had  left  the  garage  without  offering  the 
least  compromise. 

"He  didn't  give  me  as  much  as  a  pin-hole  to  crawl 
172 


A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

through,"  Daggancourt  explained  explosively.  "Not 
a  week's  grace — nothing — but  just  get  right  out  and 
be  damned,  and  shoving  away  the  books  like  they 
burned  his  skinny  old  fingers.  But  listen,  Marse' 
Broughton,  that  ain't  the  end  of  it.  There's  worse 
than  that." 

"Worse?"  cried  Matt,  unable  to  conceive  how  it 
could  be  worse,  and  more  perplexed  than  ever. 

"As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  I  reached  for  my  hat 
and  made  a  bee-line  for  P.  R.  Powell,"  continued 
Victor.  "He's  the  one  who  wanted  to  buy  me  out 
for  sixteen  hundred  dollars  cash  and  take  over  Fa- 
relly's  notes.  Been  at  me  for  two  months  past, 
plaguing  and  pestering  to  beat  the  band.  Well, 
what  do  you  think  when  I  got  to  the  Delmonico 
garage  where  he's  foreman!  Hemmed  and  hawed, 
he  did,  and  couldn't  make  it  more  than  seven  hun 
dred.  Had  been  tipped  off,  don't  you  see,  and  knew 
that  Farelly  was  going  to  put  me  on  the  street!  I 
would  have  traded  at  sixteen  hundred  and  been  glad 
of  it — thankful,  Marse'  Broughton,  to  have  saved 
that  much  from  the  wreck.  But  seven  hundred! 
Good  God,  perhaps  I  ought  to  have  took  it.  But  I 
just  couldn't — I  just  couldn't." 

"I  believe  I  can  get  you  out  of  this,"  said  Matt. 
"It  may  be  crazy,  but  let's  try  it.  Here,  I'll  write 
it  on  the  back  of  an  envelope." 

Victor  was  astounded;  his  face,  as  withered  as 
old  leather,  screwed  itself  up  into  a  thousand 
wrinkles.  "Try  what?"  he  demanded. 

173 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"You  sit  down  and  copy  this  off,  and  have  it  in 
his  letter-box  inside  of  an  hour: 

"  'DEAR  MR.  FARELLY  : 

"  'Looking  back  on  our  interview,  I  fear  I  was 
not  in  a  state  best  to  explain  the  prosperous  condi 
tion  of  the  garage,  or  how,  really  unwise  it  would 
be  in  your  own  interests  to  terminate  my  connection 
with  it.  The  fact  was  that  I  was  very  much  upset 
by  another  matter,  a  row  I  had  had  with  my  demon 
strator  shortly  before  you  came  in.  This  fellow 
Broughton  acted  abominably,  and  I  had  to  threaten 
him  with  a  constable  before  he  would  go,  and  after 
ward  he  came  back  again,  and  tried  to  clean  out  the 
shop  with  a  piece  of  lead  pipe.  Excuse  me  for  both 
ering  you  with  all  this,  but  I  am  sure  that  if  you 
will  let  me  bring  you  the  books,  and  show  you  how 
well  the  garage  is  going,  you  will  reconsider  your 
wish  to  call  in  the  note.  Our  agency  prospects  are 
very  bright,  and  the  sale  of  two  Jonesmobiles  in 
eighteen  days  speaks  for  itself.  I  feel  positive  I  can 
satisfy  you  in  regard  to  everything,  if  you  will  only 
be  so  very  kind  as  to  let  me  come  and  go  over  the 
figures. 

"  'Respectfully  yours, 

"  'VICTOR  DAGGANCOURT.'  ' 

"And  I'm  to  write  him  that?"  asked  the  mulatto, 
taking  the  envelope,  which  had  been  torn  open  and 
was  scribbled  all  over — looking  from  it  to  Matt 
with  an  expression  of  utter  bewilderment.  "Sakes 
alive,  Marse'  Broughton,  what  in  the  name  of  good 
ness  do  you  want  me  to  do  that  for?" 

"Because  I  think  I  know  what's  the  matter  with 
174 


A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

Mr.  Farelly.  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  believe  the 
whole  scheme  is  simply  to  get  me  out  of  my  job. 
That's  why  I  put  in  the  lead  pipe  and  all  that — and 
mind  you,  stick  to  it,  Victor,  for  all  you're  worth." 

"But  why  should  Farelly  do  that?  Excuse  me, 
Marse'  Broughton,  but  you're  all  off.  I  might  as 
will  send  him  a  picture  post-card  of  the  Masonic 
building  as  this  here  letter." 

"You  try  it  and  see." 

"But  what's  your  job  got  to  do  with  Mr.  Farelly? 
Or  why  should  he  care  one  way  or  the  other?" 

"Victor,  I'm  in  deeper  waters  than  I  dare  tell 
you.  Mind,  I  may  be  wrong  about  Farelly,  but 
don't  you  think  he's  acting  very  strangely?" 

"Most  certainly  he  is,  Marse'  Broughton.  "Cut 
ting  off  his  nose  to  spite  his  face,  as  one  might  say. 
No  sense  to  it  at  all." 

"What  motive  could  he  have  in  turning  on  you 
like  that?" 

"None  that  I  can  make  out — though  if  I  might 
venture  to  ask — " 

"Ask  what?    Goon." 

Victor  seemed  afraid  to  answer. 

"You're  acting  kind  of  queer,  too,"  he  said  at  last, 
with  a  touch  of  querulousness.  "What  do  you  mean 
by  those  deeper  waters  ?" 

"That  there  is  more  in  this  than  appears  on  the 
surface." 

"Marse'  Broughton,  can't  you  trust  me?" 

"Trust  you?    Of  course  I  trust  you.    Only — " 
175 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Only  what,  sir?" 

"Victor,  it's  like  this;  I  have  got  hold  of  a  little 
piece  of  a  big  secret — something  extraordinary,  in 
explicable,  involving  the  best  friend  I  have  in  the 
world;  and  I  am  on  my  honor  to  him  to  keep  my 
mouth  shut.  If  it  wasn't  for  that  promise,  I'd  tell 
you  everything." 

"Oh,  Marse'  Broughton,  that's  enough — it  was 
that  I  took  you  up  wrong,  you  saying  deeper  waters 
like  a  slap  in  my  face.  I'm  sorry  I  was  so  touchy." 

"Don't  mention  it.  It  was  only  that  I  wanted  you 
to  understand — that  was  all." 

"Sure  I  do  now,  Marse'  Broughton." 

"Well,  Victor,  this  friend  of  mine  has  enemies — 
people  with  apparently  unlimited  money,  who  first 
tried  to  buy  what  I  know;  and  then  tried  to  frighten 
it  out  of  me;  and  now,  do  you  know  what  I  am 
tempted  to  think?" 

"What,  sir?" 

"That  they  are  trying  to  starve  me  into  submis 
sion." 

"You  believe  they  are  back*  of  old  Mr.  Farelly— 
that  it  was  their  doing — calling  in  his  notes  ?" 

"Yes." 

"To  ruin  me  for  no  other  purpose  than  hitting  at 
you?" 

"That's  my  idea." 

"Then  I  guess  you  don't  know  old  man  Farelly, 
Marse'  Broughton,  or  you  would  never  dream  of 
such  a  thing.  He  isn't  the  one  to  worry  about  dem- 


A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

onstrators  or  their  jobs,  or  to  join  in  any  Black  Hand 
business.  Take  it  from  me,  Marse'  Broughton,  he 
has  his  own  reasons  for  wanting  to  get  me  out,  and 
this  letter  of  yours  is  nothing  but  foolishness  and 
waste  of  paper;  excuse  me  for  saying  so." 

"Perhaps  it  is,  but  I  want  you  to  send  it,  just 
the  same." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  wiser  to  talk  over  Powell's  offer, 
and  maybe  accept  it,  mighty  hard  though  it  is  ?  Sup 
pose  we  take  it,  and  get  a  shed  somewhere  and  make 
out  as  best  we  can  with  the  Jonesmobile  ?  Two  cars 
in  eighteen  days  is  some  selling,  and  the  law  gives 
me  my  tools.  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Marse' 
Broughton?" 

"One  thing  at  a  time,  Victor.  You  get  that  letter 
off  to  Farelly  as  quick  as  you  can." 

"It  ain't  a  bit  of  use,  sir.  Really  and  truly, 
Marse'  Broughton,  it  ain't  a  bit  of  use." 

"Do  it  to  oblige  me,  anyhow." 

"I'd  rather  go  around  with  the  lead  pipe  you  spoke 
of,  and  try  it  on  his  old  head.  That's  about  the  only 
thing  that  would  ever  persuade  old  man  Farelly  to 
change  his  mind,  once  it  was  made  up.  Writing  him 
letters  is  like  putting  salt  on  a  bird's  tail.  Why, 
Marse'  Broughton,  he  don't  know  there  is  such  a 
person  on  earth  as  you." 

"That's  where  I  disagree  with  you.  Let's  make 
sure." 

"You  insist  on  it?" 

"I  would  do  more  than  that  for  you,  Victor." 
177 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"All  right,  Marse'  Broughton — though  couldn't 
you  cut  out  some  of  the  humble  pie?" 

"Not  a  bite  of  it!  You  write  it  just  the  way  it  is, 
and  then  leave  it  at  his  house  to-night." 

They  went  over  the  letter,  rewriting  an  illegible 
word  here  and  there,  and  changing  a  few  for  others. 
Had  it  been  his  own  death-warrant,  the  darky  could 
not  have  been  more  dejected,  and  he  argued  and 
grumbled  at  every  phrase.  Finally,  a  clean  copy  was 
made  in  Matt's  bedroom,  and  Daggancourt  shuffled 
off  with  it,  vowing  again  that  it  wasn't  a  bit  of  use. 

The  next  morning  Matt  treated  himself  to  the 
luxury  of  getting  up  late ;  so  late,  indeed,  that  Dag 
gancourt  had  already  gone,  leaving  no  message. 
Matt  idled  about,  waiting  for  news,  not  daring  to 
go  to  the  garage  lest  he  be  seen,  nor  to  use  the  tele 
phone  which  might  find  Farelly  in  the  garage  office. 
It  was  an  unfortunate  choice  of  a  holiday,  if  so 
anxious  an  inactivity  could  be  called  a  holiday,  for 
Hunter  Hoyt  was  rampageously  drunk,  and  scandal 
ized  everybody  that  passed  the  house. 

He  had  got  possession  of  a  broom,  and  was  charg 
ing  about  with  it  like  an  overgrown  child,  draped  in 
a  blue  table-cloth,  laughing  uproariously,  and  pre 
tending  to  be  a  national  guardsman  on  strike  duty. 
He  was  in  that  vile  condition  where  the  only  defense 
against  a  tipsy  man  is  to  humor  him,  and  one  is 
forced  to  endure  every  indignity  with  no  alternative 
save  calling  in  the  police.  With  his  broom  lowered 
to  the  charge  he  ran  at  Daggancourt  when  the 


A  LIGHT  DAWNS  ON  MATT 

mulatto  finally  appeared,  excited  and  breathless — 
prodding  him  hilariously  and  shouting:  "Back, 
mobsh,  back,  keep  off  company's  premishes!  Ad 
vance,  nash'  guard,  and  give  'em  the  bayonet !  Rush 
'em,  boysh,  rush  'em !" 

It  was  with  this  accompaniment  of  broom-thrusts 
and  horseplay  that  Matt  learned  what  had  happened. 
The  letter  had  been  miraculously  successful;  yes, 
old  Farelly,  after  a  pretense  of  examining  the' books, 
had  professed  himself  entirely  satisfied;  the  notes 
were  not  to  be  called  in ;  everything  was  to  go  on  as 
before ;  the  garage  was  saved ! 

"What  clenched  it  was  when  I  said  I'd  have  to 
find  another  boarding-place,"  added  Daggancourt, 
with  a  puckered  grin.  "Said  I  was  afraid  to  stop 
where  you  was,  may  the  Lord  forgive  me." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you !  The  whole  thing  was  aimed  at 
me,  Victor." 

By  this  time  they  were  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
nash'  guard,  which  was  ceremoniously  escorting 
Miss  Gibbs  to  her  buggy. 

"You  were  right  in  saying  it  was  deep  waters," 
said  Daggancourt,  lowering  his  voice.  "For  God's 
sake,  get  away  from  here,  Marse'  Broughton,  or 
worse  may  come  of  it.  Get  away  quick,  and  here's 
a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  I  drew  at  the  bank." 

Matt  pushed  the  money  back.  "No,  no,  Victor," 
he  exclaimed.  "I'm  going  to  stick  it  out.  I  am 
going  to  stay  in  Manaswan  if  it  rains  wildcats !" 


179 


CHAPTER  XV 

PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS 

THERE  are  occasions  when  the  office  seeks  the 
man — much  to  the  man's  astonishment.  Matt, 
wandering  through  the  mill  district  in  search  of  em 
ployment,  happened  to  meet  a  former  Y.  M.  C  A. 
pupil  of  his,  a  swarthy,  fiercely-whiskered  young 
fellow  named  Dorotka,  who  was  a  machinist  in  one 
of  the  shoe  factories.  Dorotka  had  been  in  the 
Austrian  navy,  and  this  had  been  a  great  bond  be 
tween  him  and  his  former  instructor.  He  had  a 
European's  intense  respect  for  one  who  has  worn 
an  officer's  uniform,  and  he  had  valued  Matt's 
easy  camaraderie,  repaying  it  with  a  deference  that 
helped  not  a  little  to  maintain  discipline  in  the  gym 
nasium.  He  was  for  ever  touching  his  forelock  and 
saying:  "Yes,  Lieutenant" — "No,  Lieutenant" — • 
"Very  good,  Lieutenant" — delighting  to  make  others 
stare  and  appreciate  the  fact  that  they  had  two  naval 
veterans  in  their  midst. 

Well,  here  was  Dorotka,  smiling  from  ear  to  ear, 
and  so  happy  at  encountering  his  lost  lieutenant  that 
he  could  have  danced.  He  had  been  looking  for  Matt 
everywhere,  yaas,  everywhere,  asking  everybody, 
"Vare  is  Mr.  Broughton — oh,  vare  is  Mr.  Brough- 

180 


PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS 

ton?" — Would  the  highborn  come  into  the  Radi- 
wiczky  saloon  and  drink  glass-beer  ?  Please,  it  was 
to  talk  peeziness,  vairy  important  peeziness.  That 
is,  if  the  lieutenant  was  out  of  a  yob.  Was  the  lieu 
tenant  out  of  a  yob  ?  Good !  Fine !  A  glass-beer — 
and  something  to  surprise  the  highborn  vairy  mooch. 

At  the  bar,  which  was  set  at  the  end  of  a  cut 
throat  cellar — and  over  a  couple  of  frothing  steins, 
the  highborn  was  more  fully  informed  of  the  "peezi 
ness"  that  would  "surprise  him."  Dorotka,it  seemed, 
was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Kitty  Jankovitch,  who 
worked  in  the  same  factory  with  him.  Now  Kitty 
wished  to  raise  a  girls'  military  corps  of  which  she 
was  to  be  captain.  They  were  all  to  wear  white 
sweaters,  dark  short  skirts,  white  gaiters  and  white 
caps,  and  the  corps  was  to  be  called  the  "White 
Cadets."  Fifty  girls  had  agreed  to  join  and  con 
tribute  twenty  cents  a  week  each  toward  the  salary 
of  an  instructor,  for  the  lack  of  whom  the  project 
was  now  languishing. 

"The  whole  manual,  Lieutenant,"  explained  Do- 
rotka.  "With  toy  guns  and  tin  swords — zip,  zaff, 
zooff,  attention!  Present  arms!  Prrrrrr! — And 
there  is  a  little  Canadian  hoonchback  named  Ce- 
lestine,  who  ta-ra-ra-ra-ra  real  elegant  on  the  key- 
boogie." 

Matt,  though  amused,  was  not  backward  in  vol 
unteering  his  services,  thanking  Dorotka  pro 
fusely  for  the  opportunity.  Ten  dollars  a  week  was 
not  to  be  sneezed  at,  and  if  the  corps  fever  spread 

181 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

it  might  easily  double.  Dorotka  said  that  the  firm 
had  offered  the  girls  the  use  of  a  loft,  and  Mr. 
Highton,  the  boss,  had  further  promised  the  corps 
a  silk  flag,  and  all  there  remained  to  do  was  "to  feex 
it  up  with  Kitty." 

This  young  lady  was  somehow  communicated 
with,  and  descended  in  a  freight-elevator  with  a 
shawl  over  her  head,  to  meet  them  at  the  factory 
entrance.  She  was  a  thick-set,  vivacious  little  per 
son,  with  a  broad,  good-humored  face,  and  an  air 
of  galloping  decision;  and  when  she  talked  there 
was  not  a  bit  of  her  broad,  good-humored  face  that 
did  not  join  in  and  help,  beginning  at  her  mouth, 
and  quivering  up  her  cheek,  and  wrinkling  her  nose, 
and  waggling  her  eyebrows,  and  streaking  her  fore 
head;  and  she  could  listen  just  as  energetically,  and 
every  word  you  said  ran  over  her  like  a  small  earth 
quake. 

Matt  liked  her  at  once,  and  she  liked  Matt,  and 
the  preliminaries  were  soon  settled  and  earthquaked 
all  over  her.  So  he  would  not  think  it  beneath  him 
to  drill  a  lot  of  girls,  and  he  would  not  scold  them 
if  they  made  mistakes,  and  got  all  tangled  up.  And 
was  ten  dollars  a  week  enough,  for  they  couldn't 
pay  no  more  than  twenty  cents  each,  and  it  would 
even  be  a  trouble  to  jolt  that  out  of  some  of  them? 
And  how  short  ought  their  skirts  to  be,  and  need 
they  wear  gloves?  Gloves  were  elegant,  but  many 
of  the  girls  thought  white  ones  would  make  their 
hands  look  too  big.  What  did  the  lieutenant  think 

182. 


PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS 

about  gloves,  and  was  it  too  much  like  policemen? 
They  didn't  want  to  be  called  the  lady  cops,  did  they? 
And,  of  course,  they  wanted  a  Sunday  drill  too — 
one  every  night  except  Saturday,  so  as  not  to  miss 
the  balls,  though  they  would  give  one  of  their  own 
before  long  to  raise  money  and  show  the  boys  how 
cute  they  looked. 

In  this  headlong  and  rather  incoherent  fashion 
Matt  found  himself  engaged;  an  appointment  was 
made  the  same  evening  for  eight  o'clock,  and  Cap 
tain  Kitty  stepped  back  on  the  freight-elevator  and 
disappeared  from  view.  Dorotka,  who  was  em 
ployed  in  another  part  of  the  building,  excused  him 
self  and  scurried  away;  and  Matt,  left  alone  beneath 
the  vast  rumbling  structure,  thought  what  a  strange 
world  it  was,  and  how  good  and  kind  some  of  its 
least  considered  people  were.  He  thought  too,  not 
without  a  pleasurable  vindictiveness,  that  here  was 
an  occupation  that  was  Mr.  Kay-proof.  He  had 
been  shoveled  out  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  and  shoveled 
out  of  the  garage,  but  if  Kitty  were  anything  of  a 
sample  of  the  White  Cadets  they  were  to  be  relied 
on  through  thick  and  thin.  His  drill  was  probably 
somewhat  antiquated,  but  was  all  the  better  for 
that.  He  had  been  trained  in  the  school  of  close 
formations,  which  from  the  spectacular  point  of 
view  were  considerably  more  effective  than  [the 
modern.  What  the  Cadets  wanted  was  not  soldier 
ing,  but  a  brisk,  pretty  ballet — zip,  zaff,  zoof,  as 
Dorotka  had  said — with  fifty  white  gaiters  stepping 

183 


i     'A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

out  with  precision,  while  all  their  respective  Dorot- 
kas  looked  on  and  applauded.  They  should  have  it, 
by  George,  and  it  would  be  no  fault  of  his  if  the 
White  Cadets  did  not  create  a  sensation,  and  cover 
themselves  with  glory. 

Looking  back  on  it  afterward  those  drills  in  the 
loft  always  stood  out  in  his  memory  with  a  peculiar 
pathos.  The  girls  were  so  poor,  so  willing,  so  gay 
and  so  infinitely  painstaking;  the  jaunty  caps  set  so 
incongruously  on  the  tousled  heads ;  the  home-made 
gaiters  encased  such  very  thick  legs ;  the  hands  that 
held  the  toy  guns  and  waved  the  tin  swords  were  so 
calloused  with  toil — so  grimy  and  large.  And  the 
solemnity  of  it !  The  tears  that  flowed  down  those 
pale,  puffy  faces,  when  again  and  again  they 
blundered  and  misunderstood!  The  little  hunch 
back  with  the  bugle,  who  forgot  her  deformity  as 
she  sounded  the  blithe  calls — inspiring  and  inspired ! 
And  the  elephantine  tramp  of  those  hundred  foet  as 
they  shook  the  floor  in  measured  reverberations! 

Matt's  popularity  was  unbounded;  his  earnest 
ness,  patience  and  good-nature  gained  for  him  an 
idolizing  devotion.  Erect  and  handsome,  swinging 
his  light  cane,  he  was  to  the  girls  their  ideal  of 
everything  distinguished  and  aristocratic — their 
realization  of  those  story-book  heroes  of  romance 
whom  they  had  dreamed  of  but  never  known.  It 
became  the  custom  to  wear  little  stamp  pictures  of 
him  in  gilt  brooches;  a  word  of  praise  was  cher 
ished,  and  repeated  rapturously;  Celestine,  the 

184 


PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS 

hunchback,  was  regarded  as  the  most  favored  of 
mortals,  for  it  was  to  her — and  to  her  only — that 
Matt  allowed  himself  to  show  any  preference;  and 
many  a  sturdy  cadet  would  have  changed  places 
with  her  gladly,  hump  and  all. 

The  corps  was  a  success  from  the  start.  In  a 
week  it  was  sixty-three  strong,  and  divided 
into  two  companies,  with  company  officers,  and 
Kitty  promoted  to  a  majority.  No  one  de 
faulted  on  her  twenty  cents;  and  Kitty,  who  was 
also  treasurer  and  secretary,  checked  off  the  roll 
every  Saturday  night,  and  handed  Matt  a  bulky  bag 
of  dimes.  The  general  progress  was  remarkable; 
the  girls  were  twice  as  teachable  as  men,  and  not 
nearly  so  backward  or  stupid;  they  saw  the  drill 
as  a  new  and  complicated  dance,  and  interested 
themselves  in  it  with  the  same  ardor.  From  a 
gawky,  ridiculous,  uncertain  hodge-podge  they  were 
soon  transformed  into  a  faultless  and  alert  body 
that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  watch.  White  gaiters 
whisked  in  perfect  unison ;  wooden  guns  banged  the 
floor  or  rose  in  white  arms  with  an  inspiriting  regu 
larity;  every  evolution  was  performed  not  merely 
well,  but  with  a  zest  and  swing  that  made  Matt 
proud  of  his  White  Cadets. 

A  band  was  spoken  of;  a  public  parade;  possibly 
a  reception  to  the  Governor  on  the  Fourth  of  July 
and  a  subsequent  review  in  front  of  the  City  Hall. 
The  White  Cadets  chafed  at  blooming  unseen  in  the 
factory  loft,  and  longed  for  the  time  when  they 

185 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

might  march  through  the  streets,  with  drums  beat 
ing  and  colors  flying,  to  the  amazement  and  admira 
tion  of  all  beholders.  Meanwhile,  they  worked  with 
a  will  and  adored  their  instructor,  buying  him  a  real 
sword,  which  was  presented  to  him  by  a  committee, 
much  to  his — and  their — embarrassment.  He  was 
immensely  touched,  for  that  subscription  must  have 
lightened  many  a  lunch-pail,  and  cut  off  many  a 
pickle  or  frankfurter  or  scrap  of  finery — the  sword 
being  quite  a  sword,  with  a  gold-plated  handle, 
richly  chased,  and  an  engraved  inscription  on  the 
blade.  Yes,  so  touched,  that  his  heart  was  very  full 
indeed,  and  brimmed  over  with  tenderness  for  his 
funny  command;  and  he  went  through  the  ranks, 
shaking  hands  with  every  one  of  them,  and  telling 
them,  not  without  emotion,  how  happy  and  how 
grateful  he  was. 

One  Monday  night  when  as  usual  he  mounted 
the  dingy  stairway  to  the  upper  stones  of  the 
factory,  a  strange,  furious  buzzing  reached  his 
ears,  warning  him  that  something  was  seriously 
amiss  in  the  loft.  He  hastened  his  steps,  and  burst 
in  on  the  Cadets,  expecting  to  stop  a  hair-pulling 
match,  or  one  of  those  squabbles  that  will  happen 
in  even  the  best  regulated  of  girls'  corps.  There  was 
a  dead  silence  at  his  entrance,  and  as  he  advanced 
into  the  room  he  wondered  to  see  no  one  in  uniform, 
and  wondered  still  more  at  the  fierce,  lowering  looks 
that  met  him  on  every  side.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
cry  of  "Oh,  there  he  is,  the  dirty  wretch !"  and  with 

1 86 


PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS 

that  the  whole  assembly  made  a  rush  at  him,  yelling 
like  so  many  Indians,  and  engulfing  him  in  a  biting, 
scratching,  snarling,  kicking,  punching  mob. 

Before  he  could  realize  what  was  happening,  his 
face  was  scratched,  his  clothes  were  half  off  his 
back,  and  he  was  defending  himself  for  very  life. 
Once  they  nearly  had  him  down,  and  there  was 
nothing  pathetic  now  in  those  big  feet,  savagely 
lunging  at  him,  and  ready  to  scrunch  him  under 
their  heels.  With  a  superhuman  effort  he  righted 
himself,  and  as  a  hat-pin  dug  into  his  side,  began  to 
push  them  away  violently  with  his  hands.  It  was  a 
disagreeable  thing  to  do — to  be  forced  to  do — but  he 
was  being  murdered  by  those  insane  women,  and 
self-preservation  is  the  first  law.  They  screeched, 
they  screamed,  they  fainted,  they  clawed  him  with 
renewed  ferocity ;  hanging  to  his  back,  his  legs,  and 
stabbing  at  him  with  their  venomous  hat-pins,  till 
everything  swam  before  him,  and  his  one  coherent 
instinct  was  to  reach  the  wash-room  in  the  corner  of 
the  loft. 

He  got  to  it  somehow;  swung  round,  and  shook 
off  his  pursuers,  and  then,  slamming  the  door  in 
their  faces,  bolted  it — while  those  sixty-three  voices 
howled  like  wolves  outside.  The  partitions  did  not 
run  to  the  ceiling,  but  only  to  the  height  of  about 
nine  feet;  he  pulled  himself  up  to  one  of  these  nar 
row  ledges,  and  pantingly  gazed  on  the  pandemo 
nium  below.  The  storm  had  spent  its  worst;  the 
wounded  were  being  revived  and  unlaced ;  there  was 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

no  concerted  attempt  to  smash  in  the  door,  though 
half  a  dozen  furies  were  pounding  on  it,  and  vocif 
erating  with  the  full  strength  of  their  lungs.  The 
sight  of  him,  perched  on  the  summit  of  the  partition, 
was  the  signal  for  a  bellow  of  execration,  which 
gradually  quieted,  as  he  raised  his  hand  and  tried 
to  speak.  Just  as  he  was  beginning  to  make  himself 
heard  a  toy  gun  was  flung  at  him,  and  a  cheer  of 
delight  followed  as  it  grazed  his  forehead,  and  tum 
bled  to  the  floor.  Disregarding  the  blow  he  raised 
his  hand  again,  demanding  silence,  silence,  silence! 

By  degrees  the  cadets  hushed,  more  curious  than 
cowed,  and  derisively  obedient. 

"Will  some  one  kindly  tell  me  what's  the  matter?" 
he  asked. 

There  was  a  hubbub  of  response,  an  undistin- 
guishable  roar,  and  a  flutter  of  bits  of  paper  waved 
at  him  with  a  significance  he  was  at  a  loss  to  under 
stand.  Picking  out  Kitty  in  the  crowd  he  made  an 
other  attempt,  addressing  his  question  to  her  alone. 

"Kitty,"  he  cried,  "won't  you  answer  for  the  lot? 
What  the  devil  has  happened  ?" 

"You're  a  low,  dirty,  contemptible  swine!"  ex 
claimed  Kitty  amid  loud  approval,  and  more  waving 
of  those  sheets  of  paper.  They  were  pink,  he  no 
ticed,  and  seemed  to  be  letters. 

"For  God's  sake,  what  have  I  done?"  he  roared. 
"What  am  I  accused  of?" 

It  was  Celestine  who  replied  this  time. 

"You  might  have  left  me  out  of  it,"  she  said,  with 
1 88 


PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS 

a  break  in  her  voice.  "It's  bad  enough  being  what 
I  am,  without  being  guyed  and  pointed  at  and  made 
a  goat  of  like  the  rest." 

"Made  a  goat  of?  What  do  you  mean?  I  haven't 
made  a  goat  of  anybody." 

Celestine  forced  her  way  through  the  seething 
mass,  and  on  tiptoe  held  up  one  of  the  pink  letters. 

"Oh,  ain't  it  true?"  she  asked  with  an  altered  ex 
pression.  "Say,  didn't  you  send  that  to  every  one  of 
us  Sunday  afternoon,  by  a  light-complected  young 
man  with  pompadour  hair?" 

Matt  read  the  letter,  which  was  not  only  on  pink 
paper,  but  emitted  a  penetrating  perfume  and  was 
written  in  a  round  copybook  hand  with  elaborate 
flourishes : 

"Mv  OWN  SWEETEST,  DEAREST  DARLING  : 

"How  can  I  tell  you  here  all  the  love  that  is  in  my 
pining  heart?  Will  it  surprise  you  to  know  that  I 
have  loved  you  madly  ever  since  I  seen  you  in  your 
cute  little  cap  and  uniform?  Ah,  believe  me,  it  has 
been  hard  not  to  show  it,  and  I  have  had  to  steel  my 
aching  heart  every  night  at  drill,  and  pretend  not  to 
care  all  the  time  it  nearly  killed  me.  This  is  to  ask 
won't  you  meet  me  in  front  of  the  post-office  at 
eight  o'clock  sharp,  and  let  me  fold  my  longing  arms 
around  the  prettiest  and  dearest  sweetheart  that 
ever  gladdened  a  lover's  eyes?  Breathe  it  not  to 
anybody.  Keep  sacred  the  secret  of  our  love.  But 
come,  come,  and  let  me  press  your  lovely  form  to 
my  heart,  and  tell  you  with  passionate  kisses  that 
there  is  only  one  girl  in  the  world  for  me,  and  she  is 

189 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

you.  I  shall  have  an  auto  waiting  around  the  cor 
ner,  so  please  dress  up  warm,  and  tell  the  folks  you 
will  not  be  back  till  late. 

"Thine,  and  forever  thine, 

"MATTHEW  BROUGHTON." 


For  a  moment  fie  was  speechless.  He  stared  at 
the  White  Cadets,  and  the  White  Cadets  stared  at 
him.  Then  he  asked  Celestine  how  many  of  the 
girls  had  received  this — this — detestable  forgery. 

"All  of  them,"  answered  the  little  hunchback. 

"And  how  many  went?" 

"All  of  them,"  said  Celestine  chokingly.  "There 
was  such  a  jam  the  street-cars  couldn't  get  through, 
and—" 

The  rest  of  her  sentence  was  lost  in  a  din  that  al 
most  took  the  roof  off.  The  Cadets  were  inflamed 
afresh  at  the  memory  of  their  wrongs.  Alas,  for 
the  love  that  had  turned  to  hate  in  sixty-three  heav 
ing  bosoms.  They  might  have  been  sixty-three 
tigers,  and  yowled  as  bloodthirstily.  Guns  flew,  old 
boots,  chairs,  tin  swords,  the  regimental  records — 
with  Matt  dodging  like  a  monkey  on  a  stick,  and 
rending  the  air  with  protestations  of  innocence.  But 
even  when  the  tumult  died  down  no  one  would  be 
lieve  him  except  Celestine,  who  took  his  part  like  a 
little  heroine,  repeating  every  word  he  said  in  a 
shrill  staccato,  and  adding  torrents  of  her  own. 
Then  Matt  grew  angry  at  being  misjudged ;  he  was 
smarting  and  sore  both  inside  and  out;  he  dropped 

190 


PALE  FACES  AND  PINK  LETTERS 

to  the  floor  and  faced  them  with  the  intrepidity  of 
a  man  whose  temper  was  boiling. 

"I  am  done  with  you,"  he  cried.  "You  are  a 
lot  of  fools !  I  have  told  you  the  truth,  and  all  you 
do  is  to  hoot  and  yell.  I'm  sick  of  explaining  and 
not  being  believed.  I  resign!  Do  you  hear?  I  re- 
sign!" 

He  stalked  slowly  to  the  stairs,  a  lane  opening  out 
before  him,  and  not  a  soul  lifting  a  ringer  to  check 
or  attack  him.  But  he  had  scarcely  taken  a  dozen 
steps  before  he  heard  them  behind  him,  as  with 
locked  arms  and  four  abreast,  they  followed,  com 
pact  and  revengeful.  At  the  bottom  of  the  first 
flight  the  murmur  of  voices  resolved  itself  into  a 
sort  of  chorus.  "Boo,  Boo,  Mr.  Boo!  Boo,  Boo, 
we're  on  to  you!"  they  chanted  in  unison.  "Boo, 
Boo,  Mr.  Boo !  Boo,  Boo,  we're  on  to  you !"  till  the 
huge,  empty  building  reechoed  in  every  cranny  with 
the  lugubrious  refrain. 

It  continued  to  the  street,  all  the  riff-raff  joining 
the  procession,  and  pleased  to  add  their  hearty  con 
currence  to  the  hounding  of  that  hatless,  collarless, 
torn  and  scratched  tatterdemalion  who  limped  along 
in  front. 

"Boo,  Boo,  Mr.  Boo!  Boo,  Boo,  we're  on  to 
you!"  With  windows  opening,  people  running,  sa 
loons  pouring  out  their  mouth-wiping  customers, 
and  all  mill-town  frantically  astir.  It  is  difficult  to 
estimate  the  precise  slur  conveyed  by  "Boo,  Boo, 
Mr.  Boo!  Boo,  Boo,  we're  on  to  you!"  but  as  a 

191 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

means  of  expressing  public  disapproval  it  was  hide 
ously  effective.  Not  daring  to  run  lest  he  should 
unloose  an  avalanche  behind  him,  and  become  the 
victim  of  a  mob  that  increased  in  size  and  anger  at 
every  yard,  Matt  was  compelled  to  lengthen  out  the 
agony  of  the  most  mortifying  experience  that  had 
ever  fallen  to  his  lot. 

"Boo,  Boo,  Mr.  Boo!  Boo,  Boo,  we're  on  to 
you!"  Block  by  block;  up  one  street  and  down  an 
other;  across  the  bridge,  and  past  the  dark,  wide 
river — no  respite,  no  mercy,  no  help  from  anywhere. 
One  lone  figure  leading;  unnumbered  hundreds 
marching  behind ;  and  that  never-ending  "Boo,  Boo, 
Mr.  Boo !  Boo,  Boo,  we're  on  to  you !"  At  last, 
however,  as  the  lights  grew  far  apart,  and  resi 
dences  and  gardens  loomed  on  either  side,  the  ranks 
wavered  and  thinned;  the  chorus  diminished;  the 
mill-town  legs  lagged,  and  mill-town  throats  gave 
out.  Matt  strode  on  unattended.  Soon  his  own 
footfall  was  the  only  sound  that  disturbed  the  still 
ness  of  the  night;  he  increased  his  pace  to  a  trot, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  more  was  safe  on  Mrs.  Sat- 
tane's  porch,  and  awaiting  his  chance  to  slip  up  un 
observed  to  his  room. 


192 


CHAPTER  XVI 
DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

T  T  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  boarders  had 
•*•  failed  to  follow  Matt's  career  with  a  keen  and 
palpitating  interest.  They  would  not  have  been 
boarders — nor  human — had  he  not  become  the  most 
engrossing  subject  of  their  thoughts.  The  decline 
of  the  kanaka  king  to  overalls  and  wages  had  been 
regarded  with  an  absorption  only  comparable  to 
that  of  a  savant  with  a  new  microbe  under  his  mi 
croscope.  Every  development  was  excitedly  dis 
cussed  ;  sympathy  and  advice  were  poured  out  in 
unstinted  quantities;  his  battle  to  earn  a  living  in 
Manaswan  and  his  successive  defeats  had  roused 
that  little  household  to  an  unimaginable  degree. 

The  boarders  were  much  more  concerned  with 
him  than  he  was  with  the  boarders,  who,  in  his 
intense  preoccupation,  became  mere  chattering 
phantoms,  and  hardly  distinguishable  from  the 
wall-paper  behind  them.  Mr.  Crowther  fell  ill :  Mr. 
Crowther  had  a  crisis  and  rallied;  Mr.  Crowther 
had  a  crisis  and  died— and  it  all  slid  past  Matt  like 
water  off  a  duck's  back.  A  lover  is  the  greatest  of 
egoists;  cities  may  fall  in  ruins;  tens  of  thousands 
of  Japs  may  kill  tens  of  thousands  of  Russians; 

193 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

political  convulsions  may  shake  and  thunder — and 
what  does  Mr.  Lover  care?  Just  nothing. 

Of  course,  in  some  vague,  dim  way  Matt  knew 
that  Mr.  Crowther  had  been  gathered  to  his  fathers. 
In  the  same  vague,  dim  way  he  was  sorry  for  Mrs. 
Crowther,  who  still  bicycled  over  to  lunch  and  din 
ner.  Even  to  his  absent  attention  she  appeared 
to  be  supporting  her  bereavement  with  unusual 
calm.  Everybody  had  told  her  "to  try  and  bear 
up" — and  she  had  borne  up,  with  a  demure  and 
increasing  cheerfulness.  "He  has  gone  to  a  better 
country,"  said  Mrs.  Sattane,  looking  out  on  Jeffer 
son  Avenue  with  an  air  that  implied  Manaswan  and 
the  state  of  Connecticut.  To  which  the  widow  re 
plied:  "He  has,  he  has,"  as  though  perhaps,  after 
all,  it  was  for  the  best.  "More  to  be  envied  than 
grieved  for,"  added  the  landlady.  "That's  what  I 
keep  telling  myself,"  agreed  Mrs.  Crowther,  rolling 
her  pretty  blue  eyes,  and  wiping  them  with  a  very 
dry  lace  handkerchief.  "He  is  better  off  where 
he  is." 

This  digression  is  necessary  to  explain  the  events 
that  came  after  Matt's  resignation — to  put  it  grace 
fully — from  the  command  of  the  White  Cadets. 
Lying  on  a  sofa,  court-plastered  all  over,  and  ban 
daged  like  a  survivor  of  a  railway  wreck,  he  found 
himself  alone  with  Mrs.  Crowther  after  lunch.  She 
had  a  proposal  to  make,  she  said,  and  prefaced  it  by 
stating  the  difficulties  of  her  position. 

"It  isn't  that  I  don't  know  the  business  inside 
194 


DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

out,"  she  explained.  "Poor  dear  Charley  wouldn't 
have  been  anywhere  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me.  I  have 
been  the  brains  of  it  for  years,  for  my  father  be 
longed  to  the  same  profession,  and  almost  my  first 
memory  was  playing  peek-a-boo  among  the  coffins. 
It  isn't  that,  Mr.  Broughton.  But  people  who  send 
for  us  expect  a  man — must  have  a  man.  They  expect 
somebody  grave,  somebody  tall  and  friendly  and 
mournful,  who  will  touch  their  dear  ones  with  rev 
erence,  and  arrange  the  sad  formalities  in  a  Prince 
Albert  coat.  I  lost  the  Townleys  on  that  account — 
very  tony  people — who  were  good  for  a  two-hun 
dred-dollar  casket.  They  sniffed  when  they  saw  it 
was  only  a  woman,  though  we  had  buried  Mr.  T's 
mother  and  Mrs.  T's  G.  A.  R.  uncle — and  there 
they  were,  telephoning  for  the  Pritchard  Undertak 
ing  Company  before  I  was  out  of  the  house.  If  the 
business  and  connection  is  to  be  kept  together,  you 
see  I  simply  must  have  a  man,  and  the  boarders  have 
been  talking  it  over  and  said  why  not  you." 

An  undertaker !  Matt's  goose-flesh  shivered  at  the 
idea.  It  was  less  a  dread  of  corpses,  and  coffins,  and 
half -suspected  horrors,  than  actual  shame.  How 
could  he  ever  show  himself  to  Chris  in  that  mortu 
ary  garb  ?  Romance  could  confront  hardships  with 
out  a  murmur;  meet  them  bravely;  sustain  itself 
under  every  adversity  of  fortune.  But  an  under 
taker!  Love  would  shudder  and  fly.  There  was  no 
room  in  Matt's  paradise  for  an  undertaker.  An  in 
describable  odium,  or  rather  something  grotesque 

195 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  grimly  ridiculous  was  attached  to  such  an  occu 
pation.  No,  he  couldn't  be  an  undertaker;  he  sim 
ply  couldn't  be  an  undertaker;  personal  dignity,  a 
sense  of  humor,  an  invincible  repugnance — all 
forbade. 

But  Mrs.  Crowther  was  very  persistent.  The 
work  was  light,  she  said,  and  the  salary  so  large. 
She  had  meant  to  offer  sixty  a  month,  but  Matt's 
resistance  induced  her  to  increase  it  to  a  hundred. 
A  hundred  a  month;  how  could  he  expect  to  get 
better  in  Manaswan  ?  She  would  tell  him  how  to  do 
everything;  he  wasn't  to  be  the  least  bit  afraid  of 
that;  just  do  what  he  was  told,  and  be  very  solemn 
and  kind  in  his  Prince  Albert  coat.  It  was  a  gentle 
man's  business — that  was  what  made  it  so  hard  to 
get  assistants — that  was  why  she  had  come  to  Matt. 
He  had  the  right  personality;  Mr.  C.  had  often  re 
marked  on  it — the  ideal  personality.  It  was  awful 
to  have  a  jarring  personality  at  a  death-bed.  People 
who  would  grudge  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  a 
jarring  personality  wouldn't  haggle  over  three  hun 
dred,  and  four  horses,  to  one  they  could  lean  on  in 
their  trouble.  They  spread  it  about,  and  that  helped 
the  connection — and  she  had  noticed  that  he  didn't 
drink.  Drink  was  the  curse  of  the  profession. 
People  expected  an  undertaker  to  be  on  a  higher 
plane.  It  was  what  she  had  said — a  gentleman's 
business. 

Matt  listened  with  an  increasing  indecision.  A 
hundred  dollars  a  month  was  not  lightly  to  be 

196 


DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

thrown  away.  He  might  find  it  no  easy  matter  to 
get  half  as  much.  He  had  canvassed  Manaswan 
pretty  thoroughly,  and  knew  what  a  paucity  of  open 
ings  it  presented.  He  had  been  meditating  day's 
work  on  the  docks — stacking  lumber  or  unloading 
coal — by  no  means  a  pleasant  or  remunerative 
prospect.  Besides,  the  mysterious  enmity  that 
everywhere  surrounded  him  would  find  itself  baffled 
by  this  little  woman,  whose  need  of  him  was  so  real, 
and  whose  position  was  so  unassailable.  Moreover, 
she  would  give  him  a  two-years'  contract,  which 
he  could  break  at  a  month's  notice,  while  she  was 
held  rigidly  for  the  full  term.  She  conceded  this 
not  unwillingly,  imparting  the  extra  information 
that  she  had  three  thousand  dollars  in  the  sav 
ings  bank,  and  owned  the  property  in  which  the 
"parlors"  were  situated. 

Matt  questioned  her  with  the  assurance  of  a  man 
who  was  loath  to  close  the  bargain ;  with  an  under 
standing  sharpened  by  his  recent  trials.  His  unseen 
foes  had  shown  how  formidable  they  were,  and 
here  appeared  an  opportunity  of  resisting  them  suc 
cessfully.  Why  not  be  an  undertaker,  with  an  iron 
clad,  bomb-proof  contract — who  could  smile  at  his 
persecutors?  He  would  leave  the  final  decision  to 
'Chris,  and  meanwhile  hold  tight  to  that  hundred 
dollars  a  month. 

But  he  would  want  the  contract  drawn  up  by  a 
lawyer — no  home-made  affair,  full  of  legal  holes — 
but  brass-bound,  double-riveted,  and  securely  bolted 

197 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  nailed  down  by  an  expert.  The  little  widow 
had  no  objection;  instead,  she  rippled  with  satisfac 
tion  at  having  gained  her  point;  and  called  him  a 
dear  for  consenting.  Indeed  she  was  so  pleased,  so 
overflowing,  that  Matt  felt  himself  a  villain  for  im 
posing  such  harsh  conditions.  But  the  White  Cadets 
catastrophe  with  its  attendant  blackness  and  blue- 
ness  had  instilled  caution.  He  remembered  the  Y. 
M.  C.  A.  too,  and  the  garage,  and  the  speed  with 
which  his  services  in  both  had  been  dispensed  with. 
He  would  protect  himself  this  time  from  any  such 
repetition,  however  exacting  he  might  seem  to  be. 
Steel  should  meet  steel — and  Mr.  Kay  might  gnash 
his  teeth.  From  this  aspect,  becoming  an  under 
taker  was  not  without  stimulation;  he  saw  himself, 
not  as  a  ministerial  individual,  brooding  darkly  over 
clamminess  and  decay,  but  as  a  fighter,  hurling  back 
those  insidious  forces  that  would  destroy  him. 

Not  caring  to  show  his  scratched  face  on  the 
street,  the  lawyer  was  brought  to  him,  and  the  con 
tract  forthwith  was  drawn  up  and  signed.  Mrs. 
Crowther,  if  anything,  was  more  eager  than 
he  to  have  it  settled;  and  afterward  she  came 
bicycling  back,  convoying  a  tailor,  who  took 
Matt's  measure  for  a  frockcoat  and  trousers  of 
grayish  black,  and  was  pledged  to  a  feverish 
hurry.  The  boarders,  impressed  but  jocular,  took 
great  credit  to  themselves  for  achieving  an  arrange 
ment  they  deemed  so  advantageous  to  both  the  high 
contracting  parties.  At  supper  there  were  congrat- 


DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

ulatory  speeches ;  Mr.  Goldstein  opened  bottled  beer ; 
Mr.  Price,  always  humorous,  foretold  a  tenderer 
partnership,  and  closed  a  peroration  that  caused  im 
mense  merriment  by  asking:  "Oh  grave,  where  is 
thy  sting?  Oh,  death,  where  is  thy  victory?"  Good 
taste  was  the  only  thing  lacking  in  an  evening  of 
general  hilarity;  but  as  no  one  noted  the  omission 
except  Matt  he  did  not  consider  it  his  part  to  be 
offended.  Mrs.  Crowther  certainly  laughed  as  gaily 
as  the  rest,  and  though  she  colored  at  some  of  the 
allusions,  it  was  not  in  reprobation. 

Behold  Matt  a  week  later  a  full-fledged  under 
taker,  with  a  wide  band  of  crape  around  his  silk  hat 
and  in  mourning  for  all  humanity.  Manaswan  was 
one  of  those  deceptive  little  places  that  was  a  great 
deal  bigger  than  it  looked,  and  this  was  borne  in  on 
Matt  by  the  press  of  business.  People  died  with  as 
tonishing  freedom;  the  dead-wagon  was  seldom 
idle;  the  daily  funeral  became  almost  as  much  a 
matter  of  course  as  any  other  daily  function.  He 
rehearsed  pall-bearers;  could  rattle  off  the  price  of 
caskets  with  deep-toned  fluency;  knew  all  about 
death-certificates,  the  use  of  ice,  the  graduated  per 
ishability  of  human  clay,  and  how  stiff  and  stark  it 
looked  in  cold  storage.  There  was  indeed  a  dread 
ful  interest  in  the  work.  It  carried  him  into  many 
strange  houses,  and  brought  him  in  contact  with 
many  strange  people.  He  moved  amid  grief,  some 
times  affected,  sometimes  so  real  that  it  over 
whelmed  him. 

199  N 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Incidentally  he  was  very  successful.  Awkward 
secrets  had  sometimes  to  be  told,  and  discreetly  un 
derstood.  There  were  night  funerals  as  well  as 
others,  and  worthy  people  to  be  shielded  from  pub 
lic  and  evil  curiosity — interments  by  lantern-light, 
and  in  graves  that  might  never  bear  a  headstone. 
He  was  shocked  at  the  intolerable  expense,  espe 
cially  in  the  case  of  the  humbler  people,  and 
those  least  able  to  afford  it.  Poor  widows,  with 
nothing  above  their  heads  but  a  mortgaged  roof, 
had  to  be  persuaded  against  ordering  rosewood  cof-. 
fins  with  solid  silver  handles  and  name-plates.  The 
bereaved  on  the  whole  were  so  helpless  and  so  easily 
preyed  on;  they  met  imposition  half-way,  and  in. 
their  pious  folly  encouraged  it.  It  may  not  have 
been  quite  loyal  to  Mrs.  Crowther,  but  Matt  would 
not  let  some  of  his  clients  be  victimized,  even  by 
themselves — suggesting  economy  and  cotton-velvet 
and  stained  pine  when  a  word  the  other  way  would 
have  quadrupled  their  bill.  Not  that  they  were 
always  like  that,  however.  One  keen  Yankee 
showed  him  bids  from  the  Pritchard  Undertaking 
Company  and  the  Necropolis  Mortuary  Parlors, 
saying :  "If  you  can  cut  under  them,  go  ahead !" 

Their  horses,  by  an  arrangement  with  the  Fash 
ion  Stables,  were  all  "jobbed";  that  is  to  say,  they 
did  not  belong  to  Mrs.  Crowther,  who  paid  a 
monthly  hire  for  them  and  owned  merely  the  hearse 
and  the  dead-wagon.  Their  two  men  were  almost 
as  much  "jobbed"  as  the  horses,  being  paid  by  the 

200 


DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

hour  when  on  duty;  one  was  the  janitor  of  the 
Masonic  Temple  and  the  other  a  nondescript  crea 
ture,  who  could  usually  be  found  fishing  off  the  end 
of  the  wharf.  When  he  was  not  fishing  off  the  end 
of  the  wharf  you  could  then  be  positive  that  he  was 
leaning  against  the  bar  of  the  Good  Fellows'  Grotto. 
He  wabbled  between  the  two,  more  often  than  not 
with  a  pail  of  minnows. 

Mrs.  Crowther  remained  on  in  her  solitary  apart 
ment  above  the  "parlors,"  refusing,  with  a  mild  ob 
stinacy,  to  move  altogether  to  Mrs.  Sattane's.  Matt 
fell  heir  to  Mr.  Crowther's  bicycle,  and  accompanied 
his  employer  to  and  fro  for  their  meals.  She  was 
a  self-possessed  little  person,  and  most  capable  and 
quiet,  posting  her  books  every  Saturday,  and  strik 
ing  a  weekly  balance  in  red  ink.  It  was  invariably 
on  the  right  side,  for  the  business  was  very  profit 
able — more  profitable  than  any  one  save  Matt  had 
any  conception  of. 

This  was  a  period  of  great  depression  for  Matt. 
No  convict  ever  hated  stripes  more  than  he  hated 
the  livery  of  that  distasteful  occupation.  The  word 
undertaker  ground  into  his  soul.  He  understood 
now  why  it  was  so  largely  an  hereditary  caste; 
one  had  to  be  fortified  by  an  undertaker-descent; 
one  needed,  like  Mrs.  Crowther,  to  have  played 
peek-a-boo  among  the  coffins,  and  lisped  one's 
lessons  at  a  paternal,  undertaking  knee.  To  become 
at  one  bound  death's  twin  brother  was  to  outrage 
every  susceptibility.  Could  Chris  stoop  to  so  igno- 

201 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

minions  a  husband?  Would  it  not  make  her  hot 
with  shame?  An  undertaker!  Yet  she  might  see  it 
differently ;  women  were  so  brave  where  their  affec 
tion  was  at  stake ;  and  in  a  certain  sense  he  had  suc 
ceeded  beyond  their  wildest  hopes.  A  couple  could 
make  out  comfortably  enough  in  Manaswan  on  a 
hundred  dollars  a  month;  could  be  warm  and  snug 
and  happy  on  a  hundred  dollars  a  month.  Why 
then  should  he  be  so  unutterably  wretched? 

Chris  was  growing  very  far  away;  was  receding 
in  the  void  with  an  ocean  of  heartaches  and  silence 
constantly  widening  between  them.  There  were  oc 
casions  when  Matt  could  not  bear  to  think  of  her  at 
all,  and  felt  himself  forgotten;  when  it  was  of  the 
smallest  moment  whether  he  were  an  undertaker  at 
all  in  the  comparison  of  that  more  terrible  disaster. 
She  would  never  come  back;  she  would  never  write 
again;  some  day  he  would  hear  that  she  was  mar 
ried.  Her  willingness  to  come  to  him  seemed  in 
credible  in  the  retrospect.  It  was  a  girl's  ephemeral 
fancy,  as  filmy  as  a  bubble,  and  destined  to  vanish 
at  a  breath.  It  was  not  a  world  where  such  things 
happened;  lovely  princesses  no  longer  condescended 
to — cowherds,  or  remained  true  to  lowly  lovers 
through  thick  and  thin ;  they  chose  men  as  desirable 
as  themselves,  who  could  give  as  much  as  they  re 
ceived.  Money,  family,  social  position — what  a 
triple-barred  Port  Arthur  for  one  little  Japanese  to 
scale !  The  little  Japanese  was  excessively  depressed. 

2Q2 


DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

He  regarded  those  towering  battlements,  and  then 
hung  his  dispirited  head. 

Before  long  he  was  spared  any  further  bitter  self- 
communion  as  to  the  business  he  was  engaged  in, 
and  had  no  reason  again  to  weigh  his  hundred  dol 
lars  against  his  craped  hat  and  that  seat  on  the 
hearse.  One  day,  returning  with  what  had  once 
been  a  grocer  before  apoplexy  and  fate  had  com 
bined  to  strike  him  down,  Matt  found  the  "parlors" 
shut.  After  much  knocking,  none  of  which  served 
to  rouse  Mrs.  Crowther  within,  Matt  scrambled  to 
the  second  story  by  means  of  a  gutter-pipe,  and  in 
vaded  the  apartment.  Ordinarily  so  neat,  it  pre 
sented  a  sight  of  the  utmost  confusion,  as  though 
thieves  had  ransacked  it  from  end  to  end.  Clothes 
were  heaped  on  the  floor;  boots,  odds  and  ends  of 
women's  finery,  torn-up  letters  and  old  magazines 
— all  the  litter  that  attends  a  hurried  packing  and 
a  precipitate  departure.  Mrs.  Crowther  had  gone, 
and  with  her  the  three  trunks  containing  shrouds 
and  household  linen  that  used  to  block  the  little  hall. 

He  galloped  off  to  Mrs.  Sattane's — dead  grocer 
and  all — hoping  for  some  explanation,  some  enlight 
enment.  But  the  landlady  was  as  perplexed  as  he, 
and  could  tell  him  nothing ;  nor  was  there  more  to  be 
gleaned  from  the  Fashion  Stables,  which  were 
thrown  into  a  flutter  and  convinced  that  the  poor 
lady  had  met  foul  play.  Mr.  Merrick,  the  propri 
etor,  followed  the  dead-wagon  at  a  run  as  it  tore 

203 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

back  to  the  "parlors,"  with  Matt  now  thoroughly 
alarmed.  A  man  was  in  the  act  of  unlocking-  the 
front  doors  as  the  former  arrived,  and  he  vouch 
safed  the  extraordinary  information  that  the  prop 
erty  had  been  sold  to  Mr.  Farelly. 

"But  where's  Mrs.  Crowther?"  demanded  Matt. 

"How  the  hell  do  I  know?"  returned  the  man, 
who  was  a  surly  person  of  the  bailiff  species.  "I  am 
here  to  take  possession  for  Mr.  Farelly,  who  has 
bought  out  the  premises,  lock,  stock  and  barrel." 

Failing  to  get  any  satisfaction  Matt  called  up  the 
money-lender  over  the  telephone. 

"Who's  that  you  say?" 

"I  am  Mr.  Broughton— " 

"Veil,  what  do  you  want?" 

"I  am  Mrs.  Crowther's  assistant." 

"Mrs.  Crowther,  the  lady  undertaker?" 

"Yes,  yes." 

"She  has  given  up  business.  Did  she  not  acquaint 
you  with  that?" 

"Then  it  is  true  you've  bought  the  place?" 

"Certainly,  I  buy  it,  and  the  two  carriages  also, 
and  four  sets  of  harness — everything." 

"Where  can  I  find  her?" 

"Why,  ain't  she  there?" 

"You  know  she  isn't,  Mr.  Farelly.  Where  is 
she?" 

"My  dear  young  man,  you  astonish  me.  I  do  not 
keep  the  lady  in  my  pocket.  She  sell  me  the  prop- 

204 


DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

erty  in  a  big  hurry,  and  I  buy  it  in  a  big  hurry — and 
that's  all  I  can  tell  you." 

"Did  she  say  she  was  leaving  Manaswan?" 

"She  never  say  anything." 

"But  you  must  have  some  address — some  way  of 
reaching  her?" 

"Veil,  I  took  it  she  was  at  the  boarding-house  on 
Jefferson  Avenue;  though  what  for  should  I  reach 
her?  The  title  was  searched,  and  I  have  her  receipt 
for  the  money.  You  will  excuse  me  if  I  ask  you  to 
ring  off." 

"Hold  on,  please;  hold  on  a  moment." 

"Veil,  what  more?" 

"I  have  a  body  in  the  dead-wagon,  and  all  ar 
rangements  were  made  to  lay  it  out  in  the  mortuary, 
and  have  the  funeral  take  place  from  here  the  day 
after  to-morrow." 

"You  mean  you  have  a  dead  person  ?" 

"Yes,  right  here  in  the  dead-wagon." 

"Veil,  don't  you  put  him  in  my  premises,  or  I  will 
sue  you  for  trespass,  and  send  an  officer  to  throw 
him  out." 

"But,  good  God,  man,  what  am  I  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"That's  your  lookout." 

"See  here,  Mr.  Farelly,  I'm  tired  of  this!  If 
you've  bought  the  business,  you  have  taken  over  the 
liabilities  as  well ;  and  if  you  won't  assume  any  re 
sponsibility  I'll  drive  round  to  your  office  and  leave 
the  coffin  in  your  doorway." 

"Oh,  mem  Gott,  no,  no !" 
205 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Those  people  deserve  proper  consideration,  and 
you've  got  to  show  it  to  them." 

"But  in  my  office—!    No,  I  forbid  it." 

"You  send  word  at  once  to  the  Pritchard  Under 
taking  Company  to  take  charge,  and  at  the  price  I 
fixed,  and  if  you  haven't  by  the  time  I  get  there,  I'll 
drive  to  your  place  and  leave  the  coffin  on  the  floor." 

"Oh,  my  dear  young  man,  I  will  do  it  precisely  as 
you  request." 

"And  I  won't  have  Mrs.  Cowles  charged  a  cent 
over  eighty  dollars.  If  the  Pritchards  make  any 
difference,  you  must  pay  it." 

"I  will,  I  will." 

"And  state  it  in  writing." 

"Yes,  in  writing.  Most  faithfully  will  I  perform 
it,  if  only  you  will  keep  your  dead  man  away  from 
my  office!" 

Of  Mrs.  Crowther  nothing  was  ever  seen  again, 
though  there  was  a  rumor  that  could  not  be  con 
firmed,  that  her  name  had  appeared  on  the  passenger 
list  of  an  out-going  Boston  liner.  Consultation  with 
a  lawyer  gave  no  hope  of  holding  Farelly  account 
able  for  her  breach  of  contract.  Matt  could  not  re 
cover  either  his  wages  or  the  amount  he  had  spent 
on  clothes.  The  property  was  securely  in  the  mon 
ey-lender's  possession,  and  could  not  be  attached. 
The  bank,  under  the  threat  of  an  injunction,  opened 
its  books,  and  proved  that  Mrs.  Crowther  had  with 
drawn  her  deposit  in  notes  on  the  day  before  she  had 

206 


DEATH'S  TWIN  BROTHER 

disappeared;  her  outstanding  accounts  had  either 
been  settled  at  a  discount,  or  sold  to  a  collection- 
agency.  There  was  as  little  to  distrain  upon  as 
though  she  were  the  Arab  who  silently  folded 
his  tent.  Sand,  metaphorically  speaking,  was  all 
that  remained.  While  every  one  wondered  and 
speculated  and  racked  their  bewildered  heads,  Matt 
alone  said  nothing.  For  him  there  was  a  writing 
on  the  wall,  invisible  to  the  others,  and  it  was  in 
three  letters  as  bright  as  flame :  K-A-Y. 


207 


CHAPTER  XVII 

CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

ETTING  a  job  on  the  water-front  was  as  easy 
as  he  had  anticipated;  but  what  he  had  not 
reckoned  on  was  the  overmastering,  crushing  fa 
tigue  that  made  it  impossible  to  keep  it.  A  man  unac 
customed  to  severe  and  prolonged  manual  labor  has 
little  chance  on  the  docks.  Swollen  muscles  seared 
his  back  like  fire;  the  skin  came  off  his  hands  till 
they  were  gummy  with  blood  and  dirt ;  to  stoop  be 
came  a  torture,  and  his  feet,  unused  to  the  heavy 
weights  they  were  forced  to  carry,  caused  him  the 
most  poignant  distress.  One  may  be  a  good  all- 
round  athlete  and  in  excellent  physical  condition, 
and  yet  give  out  like  a  woman  when  it  comes  to 
unloading  bricks  all  day,  or  holding  up  your  end 
of  three-inch  planks  for  hours  at  a  stretch. 

Matt's  opinion  of  the  social  fabric  underwent  a 
revolution.  He  is  still  asking  himself  why  those 
who  toil  the  hardest  should  be  the  worst  paid. 
Everything  is  piled  on  the  laborer;  he  bears  the 
world  on  his  straining  shoulders;  he  is  the  Man 
Friday  of  civilization,  while  Crusoe,  nicely  got  up  in 
goatskins  and  jingling  his  money,  unceasingly  be 
rates  him  as  the  laziest  nigger  under  the  sun,  and 

208 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

grudges  him  the  pittance  that  keeps  body  and  soul 
together. 

Matt,  working  one  day  and  often  recuperating 
for  two,  exerted  every  nerve  to  find  less  killing  em 
ployment.  Mr.  Doty,  who  might  have  helped  him, 
was  absent  at  a  Chautauqua  conference;  Matt 
had  no  one  to  lean  on  save  Providence  and  himself. 
There  were  openings  here  and  there  for  skilled  men, 
but  none  seemingly  for  such  as  he.  He  was  un 
pleasantly  conscious,  too,  that  he  had  lost  caste ;  he 
was  under  some  strange  ban ;  people  froze  at  his  ap 
proach  and  were  glad  to  see  him  leave.  Goldstein 
confided  to  him  that  "there  was  a  lot  of  gossip  run 
ning  around  the  place"  and  that  "somebody  seems 
to  have  it  in  for  you,  old  man,  and  have  it  in  good 
and  hard!"  Nothing  could  induce  the  bookkeeper 
to  be  more  specific.  "Oh,  what's  the  use?"  he  said, 
shying  off  the  subject.  "The  town's  got  a  down  on 
you — and  let  it  go  at  that !" 

One  of  the  few  that  did  not  have  "a  down  on 
him"  was  Sullivan,  the  boss  stevedore.  Sullivan 
was  a  burly,  bullying  giant  of  a  man,  whose  original 
aversion  had  turned  into  a  genuine  liking,  and  to 
whom  Matt  was  indebted  for  many  kindnesses. 
Matt  had  been  quickly  promoted  from  "Hi,  you 
there,"  to  "Sonny,"  which  represented  the  two  poles 
of  boss-stevedore  consideration.  As  "Hi,  you 
there,"  Matt  had  been  singled  out  for  anything  spe 
cially  disagreeable;  as  "Sonny"  he  was,  compara 
tively  speaking,  a  pampered  pet.  His  efforts  to  bet- 

209 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

ter  himself,  as  the  phrase  goes  in  that  class,  were 
sympathetically  followed  by  Mr.  Sullivan,  who  was 
also  "keeping  his  eye  open"  in  the  young  fellow's  in 
terest.  It  opened — very  ineffectually  as  it  turned 
out — on  the  municipal  watering  cart;  on  a  secre 
tary's  job  down  at  Fowler  and  Beale's ;  on  a  position 
as  chucker-out  at  the  Oriental  Cafe.  One  day  Sul 
livan  beamingly  announced  a  new  possibility. 

"A  fellow  has  been  down  here  from  the  Mountain 
View  quarry,"  he  said.  "They  are  opening  it  up 
again,  and  expect  to  put  in  a  shift  of  four  hundred 
Hunks.  He  was  a  nice-appearing  fellow,  with  a 
rubber-tired  buggy  and  a  diamond  pin,  wanting  me 
to  figure  on  loading  sandstone  by  the  cubic  yard, 
and  would  I  make  a  contract  if  I  were  guaranteed  a 
monthly  minimum.  One  thing  led  to  another,  and 
then  I  put  in  a  good  word  for  you  as  gang  foreman 
or  in  the  office,  and  he  wrote  down  your  name  very 
pleased  on  his  cuff.  You're  to  drive  out  on  Sunday 
morning  and  talk  it  over,  though  he  said  he  wouldn't 
promise  nothing  positive  till  he  saw  you." 

This  was  cheering  indeed,  and  gave  Matt  renewed 
hope  at  a  moment  when  it  was  nigh  gone.  As  it 
happened,  he  remembered  the  deserted  quarry  very 
well,  having  passed  it  in  the  Jonesmobile  in  the 
course  of  his  random  travels.  It  was  a  desolate,  out- 
of-the-way  place  about  sixteen  miles  from  Manas- 
wan,  with  long  wooden  shanties  in  the  last  stage  of 
dilapidation,  and  rusting  tramway  tracks  leading  to 
rusting  chutes.  It  had  stuck  in  his  memory  as  dis- 

2IO 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

malness  personified,  and  he  recalled  having  given 
shout  after  shout  to  hear  his  voice  reecho  from  the 
steep,  gashed  hillside. 

But  a  job  was  a  job,  and  four  hundred  Hungari 
ans  were  likely  to  lighten  the  somber  picture  and 
restore  a  teeming  and  busy  life  to  a  spot  that  had 
lain  undisturbed  for  twenty  or  more  years.  Its  dis 
tance  from  Manaswan  was  in  itself  a  recommenda 
tion,  and  might  make  it  impossible  for  those  unseen 
enemies  to  hound  him  so  far.  It  was  a  Boston  en 
terprise,  representing  Boston  capital  and  Boston  ini 
tiative,  and  its  only  connection  with  Manaswan  was 
by  way  of  an  outlet  for  the  dressed  stone.  The  more 
Matt  considered  it,  the  better  he  was  pleased,  and 
he  thanked  Sullivan  with  all  his  heart. 

Sunday,  however,  was  a  couple  of  days  away, 
and  a  man  can  do  much  reflecting  in  two  days, 
even  if  they  be  spent  in  the  hold  of  a  scow-schooner, 
passing  bricks.  The  Mountain  View  quarry,  thus 
reviewed,  was  not  without  some  disturbing  features. 
Neither  Price  nor  Goldstein,  for  instance,  had  heard 
of  its  reopening,  and  this  was  the  more  curious  as 
both  were  in  situations  where  such  news  would  be 
seized  on  with  avidity.  The  local  newspaper  was 
dumb,  and  Hunter  Hoyt  said  that  the  "boys"  did  not 
believe  it  was  true.  These  facts,  in  addition  to 
Mart's  growing  doubts,  counseled  some  thinking 
before  leaping.  The  old  quarry  had  a  bad  name; 
there  was  a  legend  of  a  murder  having  been  com 
mitted  there;  its  isolation  fretted  Matt  with  vague 

211 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

misgivings.  He  determined  at  last  to  beg  Dag- 
gancourt  to  accompany  him,  and  this  gradually  in 
cluded — in  his  mind — a  car,  the  two  mechanics,  and 
a  shotgun  for  each.  Victor,  met  at  a  stealthy  ren 
dezvous  under  the  cemetery  bridge,  acceded  to  the 
plan  with  his  usual  good-nature.  He  was  pleased 
at  the  prospect  of  a  picnic  and  volunteered  to  pro 
vide  the  auto,  the  mechanics  and  the  guns,  as  well 
as  cold  ham  and  bread  and  butter — though  he  was 
frankly  skeptical  as  to  the  adventure  being  anything 
but  a  pleasant  jaunt. 

"Those  old  quarries  are  opening  up  all  over  the 
country/5  he  said.  "What  galls  me  is  that  I  didn't 
light  out  and  risk  a  few  hundreds  myself.  But 
there  it  was  right  under  our  noses,  and  to  be  had  for 
a  song,  while  it  was  left  to  Boston  folks  to  see  it  was 
a  good  thing  and  grab  it." 

"All  the  same  I  don't  care  to  go  out  there  alone," 
objected  Matt.  "If  they  are  on  the  square  it  will 
look  natural  enough  for  us  to  have  brought  our  guns 
with  the  idea  of  picking  up  some  rabbits.  If  they 
aren't — well,  they  won't  care  to  meddle  with  four 
of  us.  But  don't  tell  Mack  or  Louey  that  it's  any 
thing  except  a  picnic  in  the  woods." 

Victor  laughed. 

"No,  sir"  he  declared  emphatically.  "The  best 
way  to  make  a  dog  fight  is  to  crowd  him  into  it,  and 
it's  no  different  with  a  man.  But  Lord  bless  yon, 
Marse'  Broughton,  it  ain't  in  sense  or  reason  to 
expect  any  trouble." 

212 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

"I  can't  help  it,  Victor;  I'm  nervous." 

"What  could  anybody  want  to  hurt  you  for?" 

"Didn't  Farelly  get  me  out  of  the  garage  ?  Didn't 
he  have  a  lot  to  do  with  Mrs.  Crowther's  disappear 
ance?" 

"Coincidences,  maybe." 

"Coincidences?  And  what  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
and  the  White  Cadets  ?  As  soon  as  I  get  something 
and  am  sure  of  it  and  comfortable— it's  out  you  go, 
Mr.  Man." 

"It's  mighty  queer,  Marse'  Broughton.  I'll  allow 
it's  mighty  queer." 

"And  how  do  I  know  this  isn't  a  trap  ?" 

"Marse'  Broughton?" 

"Yes,  Victor." 

"We'll  load  up  these  guns  with  buckshot." 

"But  Mack  and  Louey  will  ask  why?" 

"That's  easy— say  it's  for  bear." 

"Bear?  Who  ever  heard  of  a  bear  in  this  coun 
try?" 

"Mack  and  Louey  will  before  I'm  much  older.  A 
small,  black  one — if  I  made  it  too  big  they  mightn't 


come." 


"You'd  better  reduce  it  to  a  cub  for  Mack." 

"Then  he  might  scare  at  a  mother-bear  being 
around  somewhere !  No,  I'll  give  them  just  the  kind 
of  bear  that  four  of  us  could  easily  get  away  with, 
and  carry  home  on  the  tail-rack." 

"And,  Victor?" 

"Sir?" 

213 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE       ' 

"If  it  came  to  a  scrimmage,  you  would  stand  up 
to  it,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Shoulder  to  shoulder,  Marse'  Broughton — never 
you  doubt  that." 

"And  I  don't  think  you  had  better  pick  me  up  in 
town.  Farelly  mustn't  see  that  we  are  friendly." 

"That's  right." 

"Suppose  I  wait  for  you  at  the  cross-roads  beyond 
the  dairy." 

"Van  Wyck's  dairy?" 

"Yes,  Van  Wyck's." 

"What  time?" 

"Oh,  suit  yourself." 

"Ten  o'clock?" 

"Yes,  ten  o'clock  goes." 

"Then  that's  settled?  Ten  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning?" 

"At  the  cross-roads." 

"Yes,  at  the  cross-roads." 

"And  the  guns  ?  Will  you  have  any  bother  to  get 
them?" 

"Not  a  bit — and  all  twelves,  so  that  the  same  cart 
ridges  will  fit.  The  gunsmith  will  rent  them  to  any 
body  he  trusts.  And  if  it  is  too  late  for  ham,  may 
we  make  it  chops  and  hard-boiled  eggs?" 

"Oh,  yes,  anything." 

"And  we'll  take  the  old  tow-wagon.  How's  the 
road  over  there,  Marse'  Broughton?" 

"Bad !  Stick  in  an  ax,  for  there  is  corduroy  here 
and  there,  and  some  of  it  has  rotted." 

214 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

"Need  chains?" 

"It's  always  good  to  have  them." 

"You  know  what  I  think,  Marse'  Broughton?" 

"No,  what?" 

"That  we'll  get  out  there,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and 
find  Hunkyville  running  full  blast,  and  a  superin 
tendent  in  a  nice  white-painted  cottage,  smoking  a 
cigar." 

"Very  likely." 

"Why,  it  ain't  in  reason  that  it  will  be  anything 
else.  You've  had  a  run  of  bad  luck,  and  it  has  flus 
tered  you.  We'll  skin  home  with  a  tidy  job  all  ready 
for  you  to  go  to  on  Monday,  and  the  biggest  kind 
of  a  laugh  at  the  fuss  we  worked  ourselves  into." 

"I  dare  say  you're  right." 

"I'd  better  get  back  now,  and  breed  that  bear! 
Can't  I  give  you  a  lift?" 

"Too  dangerous,  Victor — we  mustn't  be  seen  to 
gether — but  thanks  all  the  same." 

"Nothing  makes  me  happier  than  doing  some 
thing  for  you,  and  that's  God's  truth.  Good  night, 
Marse'  Broughton,  and  I  only  wish  it  was  more." 

They  shook  hands  and  separated,  and  Matt,  slow 
ly  returning  to  Mrs.  Sattane's  on  foot,  called  down 
an  unspoken  blessing  on  the  old  darky's  head.  Such 
unquestioning  and  humble  devotion  touched  him  to 
the  quick,  and  to  have  inspired  it  raised  him  in  his 
own  esteem. 

The  battered  old  tow-wagon,  true  to  time,  came 
215 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

whirling  up  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  bonking  joy 
fully.  Daggancourt  was  at  the  wheel;  Mack  and 
Louey  in  the  tonneau,  and  there  was  about  all 
three  an  appearance  of  festivity  that  accorded  with 
the  bright  spring  morning.  The  two  mechanics,  one 
Scotch  and  the  other  French,  were  in  uproarious 
spirits,  greeting  Matt  noisily,  and  showing  him,  with 
great  gusto,  the  guns  and  packages  at  their  feet. 
Matt  jumped  up  beside  Victor,  and  with  a  nudge  of 
his  leg  which  the  other  answered  with  a  wink,  asked 
for  the  latest  bulletin  of  the  bear.  Since  overnight 
it  had  become  a  very  real  bear,  reported  by  wood- 
choppers,  and  confirmed  by  an  imaginary  individual 
named  Sam  Bacon.  The  mechanics  were  eager  for 
the  fray,  and  Louey  had  equipped  himself  with  a 
hunting-knife  for  the  express  purpose  of  skinning 
the  bear.  Victor,  giggling  at  the  wheel,  contributed 
further  Sam  Bacon  particulars,  and  altogether  they 
were  very  jolly,  indeed. 

Spinning  blithely  along,  waving  their  hats  at 
every  one  they  passed,  they  at  length  swung  off  the 
main  road  and  into  the  hills.  The  country  here 
abouts  was  sparsely  settled;  instead  of  comfortable 
farm-houses  and  barns,  the  rare  dwellings  shrank  to 
mere  cabins,  and  wretched  patches  gave  place  to 
fields.  Soon  they  were  beyond  all  cultivation,  in  a 
region  of  woods  and  scrub,  with  sandy  hollows  in 
which  they  sank  to  the  rims.  Matt  reached  over  and 
secured  a  gun,  gladder  than  ever  he  had  not  come 
alone.  This  prompted  Mack  and  Louey  to  do  the 

216 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

same,  and  it  was  in  this  warlike  manner  that  they 
reached  the  quarry. 

It  was  as  deserted  as  Matt  had  remembered  it ; 
not  a  sound  broke  the  silence ;  and  the  tumble-down 
buildings,  with  their  broken  windows,  showed  no 
sign  of  occupancy.  Matt  looked  at  Victor,  and  Vic 
tor  stared  back.  Where  were  the  Boston  peo 
ple?  Where  were  the  four  hundred  Hungarians? 
It  was  a  tomb  of  abandoned  endeavor,  crumbling 
and  decaying  beneath  the  scarred  mountain.  The 
spell  of  the  bear  was  upon  the  two  mechanics;  the 
spell  of  something  yet  more  mysterious  and  intimi 
dating  was  upon  Matt  and  the  mulatto.  They  turned 
off  the  engine,  descended,  and  advanced,  guns  in 
hand,  close  together  and  alert,  a  finger  on  every 
trigger.  For  a  dozen  minutes  they  prowled  about, 
searching  the  shanties  in  turn;  climbing  up  rocky 
buttresses;  dislodging  bats  in  cavernous  workings, 
and  skirting  pools  of  muddy  yellow  water. 

All  of  a  sudden  Mack,  more  adventuresome  than 
the  rest,  came  running  toward  them  in  unmistakable 
agitation. 

"Let's  get  out  of  here,"  he  gasped,  displaying  a 
piece  of  new  black  cloth  in  his  hand.  "Look  at  that, 
boys,  look  at  that !" 

Except  for  its  newness,  which  was  singular  in  a 
spot  so  wholly  deserted,  Matt  saw  nothing  to  stare 
at  in  the  black  cloth,  which  was  smaller  than  a  nap 
kin,  and  of  some  cheap,  cotton  material,  slit  in  sev 
eral  places. 

217 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Victor  and  Louey  were  equally  surprised  at  the 
Scotchman's  terror,  and  eyed  him  and  his  discovery 
with  surprise. 

"You  gawks,"  cried  Mack,  beside  himself,  "don't 
you  see  it's  a  mask?" 

Laying  his  gun  on  the  ground  he  tremblingly 
set  the  thing  to  his  face,  and  glowered  at  them 
through  the  apertures.  Instantly  he  was  trans 
formed  into  a  bandit,  and  a  shiver  passed  through 
his  companions.  It  was  but  a  trifling  bit  of 
cloth,  yet  it  made  their  hearts  beat  like  sledge-ham 
mers.  It  was  the  symbol  of  murder,  of  dark  and  vio 
lent  deeds,  of  blood  and  outrage.  To  stumble  across 
it  here  was  to  people  the  quarry  with  lurking  des 
peradoes;  they  examined  it  whisperingly,  and  cast 
apprehensive  looks  over  their  shoulders.  It  might 
have  been  made  an  hour  before;  the  edges  were 
sharp  from  the  scissors;  neither  dew  nor  sun  had 
impaired  the  crispness  of  the  fabric. 

"Let's  get  out  of  here,"  repeated  Mack.  "I've 
had  all  the  bear  I  want." 

Matt  and  Victor  stayed  together,  retiring  in  good 
order,  but  the  others  fled  for  the  car  like  rabbits. 

"It's  a  pretty  good  thing  you  came  with  me,"  said 
Matt.  "Victor,  that's  what  I'd  call  a  close  shave." 

"I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  it,  Marse'  B rough- 
ton." 

"But  it  is  a  mask,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Sure  it  is  a  mask." 

"And  wasn't  I  told  to  apply  here  for  a  job?" 
218 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

"Perhaps  it  was  a  joke." 

"Who  would  go  to  all  that  trouble?  I  tell  you, 
Victor,  that  mask  was  dropped  by  one  of  a  party 
who  moved  back  before  us  and  are  hiding  some 
where  in  the  scrub  this  very  minute.  And  it  was  a 
party  that  was  expecting  me!" 

"And  were  scared  at  seeing  four  of  us  with 
guns?" 

"Precisely." 

"And  the  whole  talk  of  starting  up  the  quarry 
again  was  just  moonshine?" 

"Yes,  to  inveigle  me  here." 

Daggancourt  whistled. 

"I  believe  it  was,"  he  said  solemnly.  "It  can't 
have  been  anything  else.  It  just  can't  have  been 
anything  else." 

They  increased  their  pace,  urged  to  hurry  by 
Mack  and  Louey,  who  had  cranked  up  the  car  and 
were  calling  frantically.  The  two  mechanics  were 
panic-stricken,  and  in  a  frenzy  to  be  off;  and  as 
Matt  and  Daggancourt  took  their  seats  in  front, 
they,  too,  caught  the  contagion,  and  were  as  madly 
eager  as  the  others.  The  engine  roared  to  the  ad 
vancing  levers;  the  low-gear  slipped  swiftly  into 
mesh,  and  with  a  grind  and  a  jump  the  sturdy  old 
car  tore  round,  and  re-took  the  road  it  had  come. 
Corduroy,  sand,  rocks  or  tree-roots — nothing  de 
terred  Victor,  who,  crouched  over  the  wheel,  and 
bracing  himself  against  it,  flung  the  car  forward  at 
a  break-neck  speed,  never  relaxing  until  the  open 

219 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

country  was  reached.  Nor  even  here  would  lie  con 
sent  to  stop  and  camp.  Six  miles  was  still  too  close 
to  the  quarry.  The  vote,  on  its  being  put,  was  three 
to  one  to  continue  to  the  outskirts  of  Manaswan, 
and  picnic  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 

Choosing  a  shady  place  in  some  willows  beside 
the  highway,  they  ran  in  the  car  and  unpacked  their 
lunch.  But  they  were  too  upset  to  eat,  so  smoked 
instead,  and  reclined  on  the  grass,  debating  the  ex 
traordinary  discovery  of  the  mask,  and  wondering 
whether  or  not  they  should  inform  the  police.  Matt 
joined  in  but  little,  except  to  negative  the  suggestion, 
and  this  was  more  to  prevent  his  silence  causing  re 
mark.  He  was  very  thoughtful  and  moody ;  he  felt 
for  the  first  time  his  own  powerlessness ;  he  was  sur 
rounded  by  an  implacable  enmity  that  struck  at  him 
in  the  dark,  and  against  which  he  had  no  weapons. 
What  was  he  to  do?  What  was  to  become  of  him? 
Had  he  gone  alone  to  the  quarry  that  morning  he 
shuddered  at  the  fate  that  might  have  been  in  store 
for  him.  He  saw  the  body  of  a  man  floating  in  one 
of  those  turbid  pools,  and  the  man  was  himself.  It 
shook  his  nerve.  He  had  to  admit  he  was  frightened. 

He  looked  up  as  he  heard  the  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs  growing  nearer  at  a  trot;  sprang  up,  as  Mack, 
whose  position  gave  him  a  view  of  the  road,  said 
something  about  a  young  lady  on  horseback.  It  was 
a  young  lady  indeed!  It  was  Chris,  riding  beside 
her  father,  and  approaching  briskly ! 

She  saw  him  as  quickly  as  he  saw  her,  and  at  that 
220 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

recognition,  so  unexpected  and  sudden  that  it 
seemed  to  pierce  his  heart,  he  took  a  step  out,  and 
raised  his  hat.  All  that  happened  after  was  like  a 
dream;  it  had  the  bewildering  quality  of  his  first 
fight — the  same  incoherence  and  mistiness.  He 
found  himself  holding  her  bridle — talking  and  lis 
tening  with  breathless  animation.  She  had  not  been 
able  to  stay  away  longer;  she  loved  him,  and  would 
say  it  before  the  world,  promise  or  no  promise;  it 
had  been  unbearable,  and  she  was  twenty-three  and 
her  own  mistress,  and,  oh,  had  he  succeeded  in  what 
they  had  planned?  No,  he  had  not;  it  was  a  bitter 
confession,  but  he  had  not;  they  had  got  him  out  of 
one  thing  after  another;  had  forced  him  to  his 
knees;  he  had  been  persecuted  and  hunted  till  he 
was  well  nigh  crazy.  Over  all,  was  another  voice, 
stridently  crying:  "Let  go  my  daughter's  horse, 
sir!  Do  you  hear,  sir,  let  go  my  daughter's  horse! 
Let  go  my  daughter's  horse!"  a  voice  vibrating 
with  passion  and  yet  immeasurably  distant  and  as 
unconsidered  as  the  drone  of  a  wasp. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  flash  of  a  whip  and  a  sting 
ing  blow  cut  across  Matt's  face;  another  flash;  a 
scream;  and  he  had  wrenched  the  whip  from  a 
wrinkled  old  hand  and  was  about  to  lash  out  with  it 
himself  on  that  convulsed  and  raging  figure.  To 
his  dying  day  he  was  thankful  he  threw  it  from  him 
instead,  dizzily  refraining  as  he  realized  it  was 
Chris'  father  and  that  he  must  not  strike  an  old 
man. 

221 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

But  he  was  furious,  nevertheless ;  two  livid  stripes 
screamed  for  vengeance;  his  voice  came  in  sobbing 
bursts  as  he  clung  to  the  general's  horse  and  told 
him  that  his  action  was  shameful;  that  no  one  call 
ing  himself  a  gentleman  could  insult  one  who — ! 
The  horse  reared  and  plunged  as  the  general's  spurs 
dug  into  its  flanks ;  the  old  man  was  trying  to  ride 
him  down.  It  was  then  that  Matt  had  a  vision  of 
Daggancourt  leveling  a  gun  at  Marshall.  Every 
shred  of  civilization  seemed  to  have  dropped  from 
the  mulatto;  all  the  savage  in  him  was  roused  to 
frenzy;  his  bloodshot  eyes  were  taking  sight;  his 
yellow-black  ringer  was  drawing  back  the  trigger; 
with  murderous  deliberation  he  was  awaiting  his 
chance  to  fire. 

It  was  Louey  who  averted  a  tragedy ;  he  leaped  at 
Daggancourt  and  threw  up  the  gun;  it  exploded 
harmlessly  in  the  air  with  an  ear-shattering  detona 
tion.  As  it  did  so,  the  horses  took  fright  and  bolted, 
hurling  Matt  to  the  ground,  from  which  he  looked 
after  them,  on  one  elbow,  oblivious  of  everything 
but  Chris'  safety.  But  she  was  as  good  a  rider  as 
her  father  and  as  spirited  as  her  own  thoroughbred ; 
she  was  keeping  her  seat  in  that  headlong  gallop, 
and,  leaning  back  like  a  little  jockey,  was  jerking 
manfully  at  the  curb.  But  nothing  could  have 
checked  those  horses;  they  were  uncontrollable  in 
their  terror;  straining  neck  and  neck  they  dimin 
ished  and  disappeared,  leaving  Matt  sick  with  fear. 

He  was  assisted  to  his  feet  and  supported  to  the 
222 


CHRISTINE  REAPPEARS 

willows,  where  they  laid  him  down  and  examined 
him.  But  he  was  not  seriously  hurt ;  no  bones  were 
broken;  he  was  only  bruised  and  sore,  and  the  de 
scending  steel  had  fortunately  glanced  instead  of 
crushing  him.  Horses  will  not  step  on  a  man  if 
they  can  avoid  it. 

Daggancourt  wore  the  air  of  a  whipped  dog;  was 
mumbling  and  explanatory;  had  never  meant  to 
shoot ;  "honest  to  God"  he  had  never  meant  to  shoot. 
He  was  so  cringing  and  conscience-stricken  that 
Matt  could  not  reproach  him.  He  accepted  his  hand 
instead,  and  told  him  to  shut  up.  "Let's  get  to 
town,"  he  added,  beset  by  a  grinding  anxiety.  "I 
— I  have  to  know  if  anything  has  happened  to  Miss 
Marshall." 

In  a  fever  of  impatience,  and  staggering  like  a 
drunkard,  he  drove  them  into  the  automobile  and 
commanded  Victor  to  make  haste. 

"Hurry,  hurry,  hurry,"  he  cried,  in  an  exaspera 
tion  of  suspense.  "The  car's  good  for  a  mile  a  min 
ute,  and,  by  God,  she  has  to  do  it!" 


223; 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THE  ELOPEMENT 

HT^HERE  was  no  news  of  the  runaways  till  they 
•*•  reached  Main  Street ;  it  was  in  a  turmoil,  and 
knots  of  people  were  gathered  in  front  of  the  shops, 
talking  excitedly.  A  passer-by  informed  them  that 
there  had  nearly  been  a  bad  accident.  "A  man  and 
a  girl  on  horseback,  going  like  the  wind,  and  my! 
if  there  wasn't  a  scurry  to  clear  the  way.  Been 
going  yet  if  a  hay  wagon  hadn't  pulled  square 
acrost  and  brought  them  up  all  standing." 

"But  nobody  hurt?"  asked  Matt,  full  of  dread. 

"Naw !  But  they  were  lathered  to  beat  the  band, 
and  it  was  a  wonder  nobody  was  killed.  The  old 
gentleman,  he  give  the  driver  a  dollar;  patted  his 
horse  a  bit,  and  then  went  on  like  nothing  had  hap 
pened." 

"And  the  young  lady?" 

"Oh,  she  went  along,  too,  though  her  hair  was 
down  her  back  and  she  looked  ready  to  drop." 

Matt  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief;  and  after  verify 
ing  the  report  from  another  eye-witness,  begged  the 
mulatto  to  take  him  home.  He  was  glad  to  creep 
in  and  hide  himself  in  his  room.  Ter.ribly  tired,  ter 
ribly  humiliated,  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  gaze  at 

224 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

his  face  in.  the  glass.  But  no  trace  remained  of  the 
whip,  except  a  slight  discoloration  on  the  forehead. 
Here  was  another  cause  for  thankfulness,  for  he 
dreaded  lest  he  might  be  marked  for  days  and  be 
condemned  to  an  ignominious  seclusion. 

He  spent  the  afternoon  in  bed,  unspeakably 
wretched,  and  at  an  utter  loss  to  know  what  to  do. 
Chris  was  further  from  him  now  than  she  had  been 
in  Washington;  to  meet  her  again  would  be  almost 
impossible ;  to  write  was  to  incur  the  risk,  almost  the 
certainty  of  his  letter  being  intercepted ; — and  what 
could  he  say  if  he  did  write?  Only  that  he  had 
failed,  and  he  had  already  told  her  that.  There  was 
no  way  out;  no  solution;  he  could  see  nothing  but 
a  deep-water  ship  and  an  eternal  farewell. 

After  supper  that  night  he  was  told  there  was  a 
lady  outside  in  a  buggy  asking  for  him.  He  ran  out 
bareheaded,  not  daring  to  think  it  was  Chris,  yet 
unable  to  conceive  how  it  could  be  any  one  else.  He 
was  in  a  fever  of  expectation.  If  not  Chris,  could 
it  possibly  be  Mrs.  Crowther?  What  other  women 
could  be  seeking  him?  But  it  was  neither.  There 
was  a  glimmer  of  spectacles,  and  he  looked  up  at 
a  thin,  sallow  countenance  that  reminded  him  of 
Miss  Gibbs, — a  middle-aged  woman,  plainly  and 
poorly  dressed,  similarly  faded,  and  with  the  same 
aspect  of  quiet  decision. 

She  eyed  him  searchingly,  and  begged  to  know  if 
he  were  Mr.  Broughton.  On  his  replying  that  he 
was  she  handed  him  a  note.  He  read  it  by  the  light 

225 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

of  the  lantern  on  the  dash,  deciphering  the  penciled 
writing  with  difficulty. 

"MY  DARLING  : 

"I  am  sending  you  this  by  my  Swiss  maid,  Flex- 
ner,  whom  don't  trust  too  much.  She  will  tell  you 
what  I  have  planned,  for  I  am  so  used  up,  so  dis 
tracted  that  I  can  not  write  it,  though  I  have  tried 
twice.  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  courage  and  every 
thing,  and  if  we  don't  snatch  at  our  happiness  now 
we  shall  lose  it  for  ever.  It  was  wicked  of  him  to 
strike  you.  Wicked,  wicked,  wicked!  Let  Flexner 
do  all  the  talking  till  you  understand.  Don't  think 
she  is  devoted,  it's  because  I  promised  her  2,000  dols, 
and  that  is  a  fortune  in  her  country,  where  I  sup 
pose  she  will  settle  down  and  yodel  for  the  rest  of 
her  days.  She  is  very  sharp,  so  be  cautious.  Oh, 
if  I  could  only  talk  to  you  myself,  but  I  love  you, 
and  she  will  show  you  how  much.  Adieu. 

"CHRIS." 

"P.  S.  When  I  shall  have  paid  her  the  $100  she 
insists  on  in  advance  I  shall  have  eighty-two  dollars 
left." 

Matt  pondered  a  moment,  and  then  inquired: 
"You  are  Flexner?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Will  you  please  give  me  your  message  ?" 

The  woman  hesitated ;  moved  in  her  seat ;  and 
then  replied  in  a  low  voice:  "Had  we  not  better 
move  away  from  the  gate — people  may  see  us 
here?" 

226 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

Matt  assented,  and  walked  beside  the  buggy  as  it 
was  slowly  driven  beyond  Mrs.  Sattane's,  stopping 
opposite  a  vacant  lot.  He  kept  reminding  himself 
that  this  Flexner  was  "very  sharp" ;  also  that  "she 
was  not  to  be  trusted  too  much."  He  was  stirred  and 
uneasy  and  in  a  state  of  suppressed  excitement. 
Something  was  on  foot;  something  vital  and  per 
emptory  ;  he  was  devoured  to  learn  what  it  was. 

"My  young  lady  wishes  to  do  a  very  foolish 
thing,"  said  Flexner  with  a  disapproving  purs 
ing  of  her  mouth.  "Insists  on  it  like  the  spoiled 
child  she  is.  In  my  country  we  would  lock  her  in 
a  room  and  send  for  the  pastor  to  lecture  her,  or 
whip — oh,  yes,  whip.  She  wants  you  to  run  away 
with  her  to-morrow  morning." 

"Run  away  with  her!" 

"She  says  you  are  to  get  a  carriage,  or  better,  an 
automobile,  and  pick  her  up  to-morrow  morning  at 
four  o'clock  at  the  Fair  Oaks'  entrance.  Previously, 
I  shall  have  packed  a  small  portmanteau  and  placed 
it  outside  the  house,  and  all  next  day  I  will  inform 
her  father  that  she  is  ill  and  can  not  be  disturbed.  By 
this  means  you  reach  Middleborough  without 
trouble,  and  get  married,  and  then  take  the  train  to 
New  York.  From  New  York  you  will  travel  to 
that  city — that  city  where  you  were  cheated  of  your 
ring-" 

("San  Francisco,"  said  Matt  to  himself.) 

"And  there  you  stay,  no  matter  how  poor,  how 
starving,  till  the  opportunity  arrives  to  go  to  that 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

place  where  you  have  a  friend — a  very  rich,  queer 
man — whom  once  you  served — and  who  will  take 
you  back  in  employment." 

("John  Mort,"  said  Matt  to  himself.) 

"She  says  it  must  be  now,  or  not  at  all,  for  she 
can  not  be  so  brave  twice ;  she  says  desperate  people 
have  to  take  desperate  chances;  she  asks  you  to  an 
swer  yes  or  no." 

Matt  made  a  hasty  calculation;  he  had  almost  a 
hundred  dollars ;  this,  with  Chris'  eighty-two,  would 
easily  get  them  to  California,  with  something  to 
spare.  Answer?  It  was  yes,  of  course,  a  thousand 
times  yes,  though  his  temper  rose  at  Swiss  rapacity. 

"You  are  to  be  paid  two  thousand  dollars  for 
helping  us?"  he  protested.  "Isn't  that  a  very  great 
deal?" 

Flexner  could  not  admit  that  it  was,  betray 
ing  animation  for  the  first  time.  Was  she  not  los 
ing  an  excellent  position?  Was  she  not  going 
against  her  conscience?  What  would  be  the  value 
of  that  promissory  note  were  Mees  to  die  before  she 
came  into  her  property?  Flexner  considered  two 
thousand  dollars  at  six  per  cent,  compound  inter 
est  a  most  moderate  remuneration.  Matt,  whose 
real  purpose  was  to  save  that  hundred  dollars  in 
money — a  hundred  dollars  that  might  be  of  price 
less  importance  to  him  and  Chris  in  the  extremity 
of  their  fortunes,  objected  and  haggled  with  a  per 
sistence  very  unbecoming  in  a  young  Lochinvar. 

But  the  inflexible  Swiss  would  not  abate  a  penny 
228 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

of  her  demands.  A  hundred  dollars  in  cash,  and 
nineteen  hundred  in  a  promissory  note,  at  six  per 
cent.,  due  in  three  years,  was  the  price  of  an  inflex 
ible  Swiss.  She  was  losing  an  excellent  position; 
Mees  might  die ;  her  conscience,  etc.,  etc. — a  bargain 
was  a  bargain.  Attacked  on  the  side  of  sentiment, 
Flexner  confronted  him  with  her  own  little  ro 
mance.  She  meant  to  return  to  Zurich  and  marry 
a  faithful  cuckoo-clock  maker.  That  was  what 
made  her  so  blind  to  duty  and  conscience.  The  sal 
low,  middle-aged  creature  had  her  Carl;  Mr. 
Broughton  must  not  think  he  was  the  only  one  that 
loved.  The  Swiss,  too,  had  hearts,  and  every  week 
Carl  wrote  and  asked  her  how  much  money  she  had 
saved  up.  She  would  earn  her  reward,  never  fear, 
and  then  misdirect  the  pursuit  to  Bridgeport;  she 
would  manage  everything  with  secrecy;  she  would 
assure  them  of  a  whole  day's  start.  The  real  ques 
tion  was — yes  or  no? 

Matt  longed  to  write  a  note  to  Chris,  but  he  was 
afraid  of  the  attention  it  might  attract  in  the  board 
ing-house.  The  boarders  were  always  so  curious, 
so  nosing,  especially  where  he  was  concerned.  Be 
sides,  he  had  to  see  Daggancourt  and  arrange  for 
that  flitting  at  dawn.  He  told  Flexner  that  his  an 
swer  was  "Yes,"  and  put  into  the  word  a  warmth 
that  he  hoped  she  would  carry  to  her  mistress. 
She  was  to  say  that  he  had  ninety-seven  dollars, 
and  would  carry  out  his  instructions  implicitly; 
was  also  to  say  that  she  was  the  pluckiest  girl  in  the 

229 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

world,  and  that  if  it  were  a  desperate  chance  he 
would  promise  that  they  would  be  desperately 
happy.  It  was  like  talking  to  cold  veal,  but  all  the 
same  he  talked  and  talked — and  cold  veal  listened, 
mentally  computing  nineteen  hundred  dollars  for 
three  years  at  six  per  cent. 

She  drove  off,  leaving  Matt  in  a  whirl.  Chris 
and  he  were  to  run  away!  Chris  and  he  were  to 
be  married  at  Middleborough !  His  pulses  throbbed ; 
he  could  scarcely  grasp  it;  he  could  scarcely  believe 
it !  How  superbly  reckless  of  her !  How  incredible ! 
How  unworthy  he  was  of  such  an  amazing  sacri 
fice!  Yet  it  was  the  only  way  out,  mad  as  it  was. 
She  had  appreciated  that  boldly  when  he  had  been 
despairing.  Could  they  but  hold  their  own  in  San 
Francisco  the  opportunity  would  surely  present  it 
self  of  reaching  the  South  Pacific.  Once  into  Tahiti, 
Samoa,  Raratonga — anywhere  in  the  Islands — the 
rest  would  be  comparatively  easy. 

One  was  readily  trusted  in  the  South  Pacific;  he 
could  charter  a  vessel  and  pledge  John  Mort's  credit 
without  the  least  danger  to  the  latter.  And  with 
what  a  welcome  he  would  be  received — he  and 
Chris!  Here  was  the  one  spot  on  earth  where  he 
was  assured  of  welcome.  Moreover,  he  would  re 
turn  with  the  glory  of  having  baffled  Mort's  mys 
terious  enemies,  of  having  successfully  resisted  and 
defied  them.  Mort  would  appreciate  that.  Yes, 
everything  pointed  to  Lotoalofa. 

He  had  some  trouble  in  finding  Daggancourt, 
230 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

whom  he  finally  ran  down  in  a  wood-shed  behind 
Mrs.  O'Brien's  boarding-house.  Mrs.  O'Brien  drew 
the  color-line  more  strictly  than  Mrs.  Sattane ;  hence 
the  wood-shed,  and  the  general  effect  of  shipwreck- 
and-desert-island  in  which  poor  Victor  appeared  as 
the  only  survivor.  He  was  sitting  on  a  soap-box, 
reading  beside  a  table  he  had  constructed  of  some 
old  lumber,  and  presented  a  forlorn  picture  of  what 
human  prejudice  could  accomplish.  A  musty  mat 
tress  lay  in  one  corner;  his  toilet  articles  were 
ranged  along  a  ledge  of  the  wall;  a  broken  plate  of 
meat,  and  a  chipped,  yellow  bowl  showed  his  un- 
tasted  supper.  He  started  violently  as  Matt  pushed 
open  the  door  and  entered. 

"Oh,  Lord,  I  took  you  for  the  constable,"  he  said, 
greeting  Matt  in  surprise  and  laughing  constrain 
edly.  "I  thought  the  old  gentleman  had  sworn  out 
a  warrant  for  my  raising  a  gun  to  him." 

"Don't  you  worry  about  that,"  returned  Matt. 
"He  will  have  something  more  important  to  bother 
about  pretty  soon.  Victor,  I'm  in  an  awfully  tight 
place,  and  you  will  have  to  help  me  out  again." 

"I'm  always  ready  to  do  that,  Marse'  Broughton ; 
all  I  need  is  to  be  told  how,  you  know." 

"Victor,  I'm  going  away."    . 

"Going  away,  Marse'  Broughton?  Not  going 
away  for  good  ?" 

The  darky  extended  his  hands  appealingly. 

"I  wouldn't  do  it,"  he  added,  as  though  to  a  child. 
"What's  the  sense  of  doing  that?" 

231 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"I  want  you  to  have  the  tow-wagon  in  front  of 
the  garage  at  half -past  three  o'clock  this  morning — 
full  up — gas,  oil  and  water.  Wait  till  I  come,  and 
then  we'll  go  on  to  Fair  Oaks — just  you  and  me, 
mind — no  one  else.  At  the  big  gate  we  shall  pick 
up  a  young  lady  and  go  on  to  Middleborough,  where 
the  young  lady  and  I  will  be  married,  and  then  take 
the  first  train  for  New  York." 

Victor  caught  his  breath. 

"It  ain't  Miss  Marshall  you  mean  ?" 

"Yes,  it's  Miss  Marshall." 

There  was  an  inherent  strain  of  good  breeding  in 
Daggancourt.  He  put  no  inquisitive  questions;  he 
did  not  try  to  force  Matt's  confidence;  he  waited, 
hoping  to  receive  it,  and  then,  detecting  Matt's  re 
luctance,  hastened  to  place  him  at  his  ease. 

"So  that's  how  it  is,"  he  exclaimed  genially. 
"Well,  well,  I'm  sure  I  do  congratulate  you,  and 
I'm  just  tickled  to  death,  Marse'  Broughton,  just 
tickled  to  death !  Half-past  three  o'clock,  you  say?" 

"Oh,  Victor,  what  a  good  chap  you  are;  I  can 
never  thank  you  enough ;  yes,  half -past  three — and, 
of  course,  not  a  whisper  to  anybody." 

"You  leave  it  to  me,  sir." 

"And  for  God's  sake,  don't  oversleep." 

"It  wouldn't  be  me  if  I  did;  if  there's  any  slip  up 
it  won't  be  my  fault;  I'll  be  there  all  right." 

"Good  night,  then ;  I'll  be  getting  along  back." 

"Have  you  told  any  one  there — at  Mrs.  Sat- 
tane's?" 

232 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

"Not  a  soul." 

Daggancourt's  pleasure  at  this  answer  was  undis 
guised. 

"They  ain't  fit  to  be  trusted,"  he  said,  his  face 
wrinkling  with  satisfaction.  "My,  won't  they  stare 
to-morrow!" 

"Excuse  my  hurrying,  Victor;  I'm  dead  beat." 

"Good  night,  Marse'  Broughton,  I  know  you 
must  be." 

"Good  night." 

At  half-past  three  they  met  like  conspirators  in 
the  darkness.  Matt  was  carrying  his  suit-case,  into 
which  he  had  crammed  the  better  part  of  his  belong 
ings,  though  he  had  been  forced  to  leave  his  frock- 
coat  and  evening  clothes,  together  with  a  great  deal 
more  that  he  was  less  able  to  spare.  But  it  was  not 
a  moment  for  considerations  of  wardrobe;  what 
were  a  few  shirts  and  a  swallow-tail  to  a  young 
Lochinvar  ? 

He  was  a  very  nervous,  fidgety  Lochinvar,  as 
he  encircled  his  steed,  otherwise  the  most  disrepu 
table-looking  of  automobiles,  and  planted  a  kick  on 
each  of  the  tires.  But  they  were  standing  up  like 
Trojans,  and  Victor,  moreover,  had  lashed  a  couple 
of  spare  casings  to  the  rear,  as  well  as  providing 
himself  with  some  brand-new  tubes.  Yes,  Victor 
had  a  jack ;  yes,  Victor  had  borrowed  a  better  pump 
from  the  big  Pierce;  yes,  tire-irons,  plugs,  extra 
lugs  and  wet  cells — Victor  vouched  for  them  all. 

233 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Nothing  remained  except  to  put  a  match  to  the 
headlights  and  turn  her  over. 

She  caught  the  spark  at  the  first  turn,  and  away 
they  went,  traversing  the  silent  streets,  and  rumbling 
over  the  bridges  at  a  lively  pace.  Once  beyond  the 
town  Victor  let  her  have  her  head,  and  made  the 
wind  whistle  past  their  ears  as  he  laid  her  to  it  like 
a  racer.  Fences,  woods  and  the  winding  road 
danced  before  the  concentrated  glare  of  the  re 
flectors  ;  on  either  side  rose  the  night,  walling  them 
in  as  though  they  were  plunging  through  a  deep  de 
file;  the  engine  hummed  with  its  rhythm  of  steel. 
Then  the  gates  of  Fair  Oaks  suddenly  darted  up; 
were  caught  and  lost  again  as  the  brakes  ground 
sullenly  and  the  car  shivered  to  a  stop. 

There  was  a  sound  of  voices;  of  feet  running;  of 
muffled  exclamations  in  the  dark.  A  slight  figure 
murmured  pantingly:  "Oh,  Matt,  is  it  you!"  and 
clung  to  him.  Another,  with  Swiss  incisiveness  and 
lugging  a  heavy  portmanteau  with  both  hands, 
wanted  to  know  where  it  was  to  go,  and  failing  an 
answer  tumbled  it  into  the  tonneau.  Matt  followed, 
assisting  Chris,  and  lifted  her  in  with  his  strong 
arms.  Not  a  word  was  said ;  the  door  snapped  shut ; 
Victor,  peering  behind,  turned  and  threw  in  his 
clutch.  In  an  instant  they  were  speeding  through 
the  deep  defile  again,  engulfed  in  the  night. 

Matt's  recollection  of  his  elopement  was  both 
strangely  blurred  and  strangely  vivid.  He  was  tired 
to  exhaustion,  and  so  was  Chris ;  nothing  could  keep 

234 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

them  long  awake,  not  even  the  ecstasy  of  being  to 
gether.  Yet  that  dawn  was  the  most  imperishable 
memory  of  his  life  as  he  looked  down  at  her,  nestled 
beside  him,  with  the  heavy  lashes  fringing  her 
cheeks.  She  opened  her  sleepy  eyes  and  nestled 
closer — and  closer  still  when  he  whispered  it  was 
their  wedding-day. 

They  say  responsibility  gravitates  to  the  shoulders 
fit  to  bear  it.  In  this  case  the  shoulders  were  Dag- 
gancourt's,  and  his  was  the  directing  spirit.  He 
had  charged  himself  with  the  whole  business,  and 
had  thought  out  a  plan  of  campaign  in  which  the 
others  were  merely  to  do  what  they  were  bid.  They 
did  so  meekly,  bewildered  and  happy  at  this  fresh 
instance  of  the  first  being  last  and  the  last  first. 
There  was  an  element  of  humor,  besides,  in  resign 
ing  themselves  to  an  elderly  darky,  who  knew  so 
much  more  about  getting  married  than  they  did. 

Victor's  resourcefulness,  indeed,  was  only  com 
parable  to  that  of  a  genie  of  the  Arabian  Nights. 
The  favored  prince  and  the  lovely  Circassian  nodded 
on  the  magic  carpet,  or  stole  scared  and  whimsical 
glances  at  each  other  as  Genie  Daggancourt  drew 
them  through  the  air.  In  some  unknown  manner 
he  acquired  breakfast,  and  spread  it  for  them  in  a 
secluded  grassy  garden,  where  afterward  a  care 
taker  lady  appeared,  in  a  flutter  of  concern  and  blue- 
flannel  dressing-gown,  and  insisted  on  removing 
Chris  to  the  shuttered  house. 

From  this  Chris  emerged  later,  adorably  fresh- 
235 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

ened,  and  as  she  said — almost  awake.  She  was  very 
gay  and  tremulous,  and  talked  a  great  deal,  as 
though  afraid  to  stop — as  though  if  she  stopped  she 
would  cry.  Then  Genie  Daggancourt  discreetly 
withdrew,  and  she  did  cry — sobbing,  and  holding  to 
Matt.  But  it  seemed  she  was  not  crying  for  herself, 
but  for  him,  and  because  she  loved  him  so  much,  and 
because  they  had  only  a  hundred  and  seventy-nine 
dollars,  and  because  she  loved  her  father,  too,  and 
because —  The  list  came  to  an  abrupt  end  when 
Matt  said  that  there  was  still  time  to  take  her  back ; 
on  which  she  besought  his  forgiveness,  declaring  that 
she  had  not  meant  a  word  of  it — except  loving  him, 
of  course — and  that  girls  always  cried  when  they 
were  very,  very  h-h-happy. 

Victor  reappeared,  looking  at  his  watch,  and  cut 
ting  short  further  repentance. 

"Better  get  aboard  again,"  he  said.  "The  min 
ister's  waiting,  and  all  we  need  is  our  ring  and  our 
license — and  I'm  calculating  to  run  you  over  to 
Claremont  and  put  you  on  the  express  there." 

"Claremont?"  asked  Matt.     "Why  Claremont?" 

"It's  a  small  town  about  eight  miles  down  the 
line,"  Victor  returned.  "It  will  bother  them  more 
to  trace  you  from  there  than  if  you  left  from  here." 

"Good  idea!  Oh,  Victor,  what  a  treasure  you 
are." 

"Well,  Marse'  Broughton,  don't  the  Scriptures 
say :  What  you  do,  do  it  with  all  your  might,  and, 
Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant?" 

236 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

His  eyes  twinkled  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  car  and 
shut  the  pair  in  the  tonneau.  After  all,  it  was  some 
thing  to  be  a  genie  and  serve  a  prince.  Personal 
devotion  was  the  keynote  of  Daggancourt's  char 
acter.  He  belonged  to  the  type  that  worked  for 
their  masters  without  pay  after  the  war  and  guarded 
their  women  while  it  lasted.  There  is  many  a 
southern  home  that  enshrines  the  memory  of  such 
as  he — that  "good  nigger"  and  often  a  humble 
hero,  of  whom  we  hear  too  little  in  the  acerbities  of 
race  hatred. 

The  ring  was  bought,  the  license  obtained,  and  a 
benignant  fossil  recited  the  marriage  ceremony  in 
a  stuffy  parlor  and  made  out  a  certificate  that  was 
not  unlike  a  giant  Christmas  card — with  angels 
blowing  on  heavenly  horns  and  the  Most  High  Him 
self  not  spared  by  the  naive  artist.  The  fossil  was 
called  Snyder,  the  Reverend  Ephraim  Snyder,  and 
though  shaky  and  quavering,  was  not  without  a  sim 
ple  dignity.  At  the  conclusion  he  warned  Matt 
against  drink  and  Chris  against  "frivolity  and  the 
love  of  fine  raiment,"  and  thus  briefly  condensing 
human  frailty,  blessed  them  both  with  unaffected 
sincerity.  Victor  slipped  a  ten-dollar  note  in  his 
not  unwilling  hand,  and  they  left  the  stuffy  parlor 
— married. 

It  was  quite  impossible  to  believe  it,  in  spite  of 
the  ring,  and  the  warning,  and  the  certificate,  which 
was  too  stiff  to  fold,  and  had  to  be  carried  rolled  up, 
like  a  sheet  of  music  or  sandpaper.  It  was  hard  to 

237 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

shake  off  the  conviction  that  somehow  they  had 
failed  to  get  married;  that  anything  so  stupendous 
could  be  so  easy.  On  the  whole,  they  were  very  silent 
in  their  new  state,  attempting  to  realize  it,  and  only 
dimly  succeeding.  Matt  was  much  the  more  fearful, 
as  well  he  might  be,  and  learned  again  the  unsus 
pected  courage  of  women.  Chris  had  no  misgivings ; 
no  dread  of  the  future — comforted  the  big  baby 
when  he  said :  "I  hope  I  haven't  been  horribly  sel 
fish  ;  I  hope  I  haven't  acted  abominably."  Already  he 
was  turning  to  her — leaning  on  her — finding  forti 
tude  and  consolation  in  a  dependence  as  sweet  to 
him  as  it  was  to  her. 

At  Claremont  they  caught  the  New  York  express, 
and  Daggancourt,  who  had  taken  the  tickets,  hur 
ried  them  through  a  Pullman  to  the  compartment  he 
had  reserved.  This  was  an  extravagance  for  which 
they  were  unprepared,  and  Matt's  face  lengthened 
in  spite  of  himself ;  but  he  could  not  be  so  ungracious 
as  to  scold  the  old  darky,  though  such  a  dip  into 
their  slender  purse  was  a  serious  matter.  He  owed 
Daggancourt  as  well  for  the  license,  and  for  the 
minister,  and  would  have  paid  him  before  had  he 
not  been  put  off  with  one  excuse  or  another.  He  now 
pulled  out  a  handful  of  bills,  a  little  vexed  at  Victor's 
dilatoriness. 

"How  do  we  stand,  Victor?"  he  asked.  "Two 
for  the  license ;  ten  for  Mr.  What-dye-call-him,  and, 
oh,  yes — the  ring — that's  five  more,  seventeen — and 
the  auto,  I  insist  upon  paying  for  that — and  the 

238 


THE  ELOPEMENT 

tickets.     For  heaven's  sake,  be  quick  about  it,  or 
they'll  start  the  train." 

"Marse'  Broughton,  you  aren't  as  well  fixed  as 
you  ought  to  be,"  said  Daggancourt,  "and — and  so 
I  think  we'll  just  let  it  stand  over,  if  you  don't 
mind." 

"Stand  over?  I  should  say  not !  Here,  take  thirty- 
five  and  call  it  square!" 

"It  can  never  be  that  between  you  and  me,  sir," 
returned  Victor,  with  a  droop  of  the  lower  lip  that 
made  him  look  the  embodiment  of  guilt.  "I'm  pow 
erful  fond  of  you,  Marse'  Broughton,  and — and  it 
would  be  a  great  favor  if  you  would  just  accept  it 
— temporary.  Like  you  might  from  a  white  man," 
he  added  stammeringly,  "only  temporary,  till  you 
sort  of  get  settled,  and — " 

"I'll  take  it,"  Matt  said  brokenly,  "and  I  won't 
pretend  it  isn't  a  gift,  either.  God  knows,  I  need  it, 
Victor,  and  I — I  thank  you." 

It  was  as  well  for  all  three  that  the  train  began  to 
move.  Victor  turned  and  ran,  and  the  last  they 
saw  of  him  he  was  shuffling  beside  the  track  outside, 
waving  his  handkerchief.  They  waved  back,  saying 
farewell,  as  it  were,  to  all  their  past  life  as  well  as 
to  that  shabby  figure  receding  behind  them.  The 
new  one  seemed  to  date  from  the  moment  they 
found  themselves  alone  together  for  the  first  time 
since  dawn ;  as  they  looked  at  each  other — that  hag 
gard,  unshaven  man,  that  pale  girl,  thus  unflinch 
ingly  taking  their  fate  into  their  own  hands. 

239 


CHAPTER    XIX 

A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

'THHE  fare  to  Chicago  by  a  two-day  train  was 
-*•  eighteen  dollars  apiece,  which  included  a  "free 
reclining-chair  car."  From  Chicago  to  San  Fran 
cisco  it  was  thirty-three  dollars  more,  with  eight  dol 
lars  extra  for  the  tourist  sleeper.  In  all,  a  hundred 
and  ten  dollars,  which  left  them  precisely  sixty-nine 
dollars  and  twenty  cents  to  pay  for  their  meals  and 
provide  for  them  in  San  Francisco.  But  for  Dag- 
gancourt's  generosity  they  would  have  been  forced 
to  go  hungry  in  order  to  hoard  an  even  more  meager 
sum. 

They  slept  their  bridal  night,  fully  dressed,  in  the 
free  reclining-chairs,  which,  however  favorably  re 
garded  by  the  railway  company,  were  wretched  sub 
stitutes  for  beds.  The  car  was  crowded  and  hot ;  a 
stout  gentleman  gurgled  and  snored ;  an  ailing  child 
whimpered  at  intervals  throughout  the  night.  Matt 
awoke  in  the  morning  discouraged  and  not  without 
a  haunting  compunction  at  seeing  Chris  in  such  a 
place  and  among  such  people. 

He  was  unprepared  for  her  good  spirits  when 
she,  too,  awoke;  her  gaiety  and  laughter  were  as 
warming  to  him  as  sunshine.  She  made  a  jest  of 

240 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

everything  and  was  not  discouraged  at  all ;  she  was 
eager  for  breakfast,  and  debated  with  much  crin 
kling  of  her  pretty  brows,  whether  or  not  they  could 
afford  a  quarter  each. 

Indeed,  throughout  those  long  days,  she  never 
wavered  nor  repined.  Accustomed  to  ease,  luxury, 
servants,  everything  that  wealth  could  buy,  she 
seemed  not  to  give  their  loss  a  thought.  She  would 
sit  in  wayside  eating-houses,  swinging  saucily  on 
her  stool,  and  nod  at  Matt  over  her  upraised  cup,  or 
give  him  a  bite  of  her  pie  when,  after  deliberation, 
he  had  chosen  an  apple  instead.  She  made  friends 
with  the  newsboy,  and  persuaded  him  to  leave  his 
stack  of  books  and  magazines  on  their  seat ;  she  made 
friends  with  the  fat  man,  who  had  left  Chicago  with 
them,  and  borrowed  his  playing  cards;  she  romped 
with  the  children  in  the  aisle,  and  helped  their 
weary  mothers  to  undress  them  at  night  and  put 
them  to  bed;  she  was  always  the  first  out  at  a  stop 
and  the  last  in,  sparklingly  alive  and  full  of  zest. 
She  had  the  delightful  faculty  of  investing  petty 
things  with  interest,  and  of  enriching  them  with  im 
agination  and  humor;  so  that  the  dog  in  the  bag 
gage-car,  or  the  sick  old  gentleman  with  the  white 
hat,  or  the  college  boy's  flirtation  with  the  painted 
lady  took  on  a  to-be-continued-in-our-next  value 
when  embellished  by  her  vivacious  fancy. 

To  Matt  and  her  the  frowsy  old  car  was  a  heaven 
on  wheels ;  love  had  touched  it  with  a  magic  wand ; 
what  did  it  matter  if  their  meals  were  pinched  and 

241 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

they  had  to  take  count  of  every  nickel.  They  were 
always  counting  their  money  and  scheming  econo 
mies,  but  it  was  hard,  for  they  were  young  and 
well  and  hungry,  and  could  eat  a  whole  quar 
ter  each  and  still  want  more.  Matt  was  a  terrible 
cheat,  and  was  capable  of  munching  air  and  doing 
grand-stand  play  with  a  paper  napkin  in  order  to 
produce  an  unexpected  present  of  candy  afterward 
— tender  artifices,  often  detected  and  hotly  pun 
ished;  but  never  without  a  welling  of  that  girlish 
heart,  and  a  smile  was  sometimes  very  close  to  tears. 
And  all  the  while  they  were  rolling  westward,  over 
plain  and  desert,  past  cities  and  snow-capped  moun 
tains  ;  and  with  them  rolled  the  dog  in  the  baggage- 
car,  the  sick  old  gentleman  in  the  white  hat,  the  ad 
miring  newsboy  and  the  fat  man — all  that  little 
world  of  which  for  a  time  they  were  a  part. 

It  was  dark  when  they  reached  the  Oakland  mole 
and  took  the  ferry  across  the  bay  to  San  Francisco. 
Dark  and  foggy  and  biting  cold,  with  a  smell 
of  the  sea,  and  of  tar,  and  ships,  and  mud-flats. 
They  were  disgorged  like  cattle  on  the  other  side, 
streaming  down  into  a  crowd  of  hotel  touts,  cabmen 
and  transfer  men,  with  street-cars  whirling  on  turn 
tables  and  mobbed  as  they  turned.  But  there  were 
no  cabs  for  them,  no  street-cars. 

Matt,  weighed  down  with  a  suit-case  in  one  hand 
and  the  heavy  portmanteau  in  the  other,  led  the  way 
through  the  mean,  evil  streets.  Drunken  sailors 
jostled  them;  squalid  basements  emitted  discordant 

242 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

music  and  the  sound  of  women's  voices;  the  air 
smelled  rankly  of  stale  vegetables  and  decaying 
oranges.  Matt  was  glad  to  get  through  this  low 
quarter  and  into  the  safer  and  more  familiar  region 
of  Montgomery  Avenue.  To  Chris  it  hardly  seemed 
a  change  for  the  better,  for  it  was  still  a  poor  neigh 
borhood,  and  though  the  buildings  increased  in  size, 
they  were  old,  with  dingy  entrances,  and  wore  an 
aspect  of  neglect  and  dilapidation. 

They  crossed  the  avenue,  passed  a  brilliantly  lighted 
saloon  on  the  corner,  and  entered  a  cheap  rooming- 
house,  whose  exterior  was  scarcely  less  forbidding 
than  the  others.  Matt  had  dilated  on  the  old-fash 
ioned  coziness  of  No.  7,  Washington  Block,  but  as 
seen  by  the  two  tired  travelers  on  that  foggy  night 
it  was  hard  to  fit  it  in  with  his  enthusiastic  descrip 
tion.  But  a  nice,  motherly  woman  on  the  second 
floor  did  something  to  dull  the  edge  of  their  disap 
pointment.  This  was  Miss  Diehl,  the  agent,  who, 
after  a  parley  in  her  own  spotless  room,  offered 
them  one  on  the  next  floor  for  two  dollars  a  week. 
If  this  were  less  spotless  it  had  the  distinction  of 
having  been  an  author's,  who  had  been  ejected  the 
day  before,  though  nothing  would  ever  eject  the 
holes  his  cigarettes  had  burned  in  the  carpet  or  a 
peculiar  smell  that  seemed  to  be  of  sausages  cooked 
over  the  gas-jet.  But  two  dollars  a  week  was  not 
much,  and  Jim,  the  Chinaman,  would  lay  fresh 
sheets — and  so  the  arrangement  was  concluded. 
As  the  door  closed  on  Miss  Diehl,  Chris,  who 

243 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

was  sitting  on  the  bed,  looked  up  and  said  with  a 
strange  earnestness :  "Matt,  I  want  to  tell  you  some 
thing." 

"Why,  what  is  it?"  he  asked  carelessly. 

"We  were  followed  all  the  way  up  from  the 
ferry." 

"Followed?" 

"Yes,  a  man  followed  us;  I'm  positive  of  it." 

"Boo!    I  don't  believe  it" 

"But  he  did,  dear,  truly  he  did,  and  when  we 
crossed  the  street  down  there  he  came  up  so  close  I 
could  have  touched  him." 

"My  poor  darling,  don't  talk  rot.  He  may  have 
been  simply  coming  the  same  way  we  did." 

"Then  why  did  he  keep  staring  and  pretending  he 
wasn't?" 

"Because  you  are  so  pretty." 

"But  he  stared  at  you,  too." 

"Because  I  was  so  lucky — to  be  your  husband." 

This  flattering  explanation  did  not  satisfy  Chris ; 
she  rose,  and  going  to  the  window,  looked  out. 

"Oh,  Matt,  there  he  is  now !"  she  cried.  "Come 
quick." 

But  Matt  was  too  late ;  the  man  had  disappeared 
in  the  direction  of  the  saloon. 

They  stood  there,  Chris  in  a  tremble,  Matt  uncon 
vinced,  yet  somehow  anxious. 

"Nobody  could  harm  us  here,"  he  exclaimed,  try 
ing  to  make  a  joke  of  it.  "Forty  men,  all  following 
us  in  single  file,  couldn't  hurt  us,  could  they?" 

244 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

But  Chris  was  shaking,  and  the  hand  that  sought 
his  own  was  as  cold  as  ice.  "Matt,  I'm  frightened," 
she  said. 

Matt  had  intended  to  go  to  Snood  and  Hargreaves 
and,  demanding  an  explanation  of  their  outrageous 
conduct,  force  them  to  a  settlement.  His  position 
was  unassailable.  If  they  could  show  him  no  ring 
— and  he  knew  they  did  not  have  it — he  could 
threaten  them  with  the  police  and  press  them  to  the 
wall.  But  the  unwisdom  of  such  a  course  grew 
more  and  more  apparent.  It  would  be  tantamount 
to  announcing  his  arrival  to  Mr.  Kay,  with  unfore 
seeable  dangers  and  consequences.  But  if  Kay  were 
already  on  his  track,  and  if  the  man  of  overnight 
were  indeed  a  spy,  nothing  could  be  gained,  but 
much  lost,  by  sparing  the  jewelers.  This  was  the 
question  that  animated  Chris  and  Matt  as  they 
breakfasted  the  next  morning  in  a  little  Italian  res 
taurant,  leaning  their  elbows  on  the  table  with  their 
heads  close  together  in  eager  consultation. 

Somehow  the  daylight  had  a  dissipating  effect  on 
the  personage  that  had  followed  them  from  the 
ferry.  Matt  was  more  incredulous  and  Chris  not 
half  so  sure  as  she  had  been.  She  admitted  being 
overstrained;  admitted  the  unlikeliness  of  her  con 
jecture  and  was  willing  enough  to  ascribe  it  to  a  base 
less  apprehension.  Then  in  that  case  why  rouse 
sleeping  lions?  It  was  decided  to  allow  the  sleep 
ing  lions  to  sleep  on  undisturbed — in  the  meanwhile 

245 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

at  all  events.  Roused  lions,  even  if  compelled  to 
disgorge,  would  certainly  keep  the  wires  hot,  and 
bring  Kay  and  his  myrmidons  by  the  first  express. 

No,  Snood  and  Hargreaves  were  put  by  as  a  last 
resort,  only  to  be  braved  in  the  extremity  of  misfor 
tune.  Instead,  Matt  would  make  the  round  of  the 
business  houses  with  which  he  had  formerly  dealt 
on  John  Mort's  behalf  and  borrow  sufficient  money, 
if  he  could,  for  a  steerage  passage  in  the  mail- 
steamer  to  Samoa. 

Chris  accompanied  him.  It  was  a  blustering, 
windy  day,  bleak  and  cheerless,  and  it  seemed  to 
become  bleaker  and  more  cheerless  still  as  Matt  was 
denied  at  one  office  after  another.  He  was  the  vic 
tim  of  bygone  zeal,  of  bygone  loyalty  and  honesty. 
However  lightly  he  had  spent  his  own  money,  he 
had  always  been  a  hard  bargainer  where  John 
Mort's  was  concerned.  How  remorselessly  that 
"five  per  cent,  for  cash"  now  rose  in  judgment 
against  him — that  "I  can  do  better  at  Turner's,"  or 
whatever  it  was — to  bring  down  the  price. 

He  was  shabby;  he  was  hesitating;  he  had  none 
of  the  enticing  arts  nor  breezy  joviality  that  com 
promised  the  lender  before  he  could  temper  his  wel 
come  to  changed  conditions.  What  business  man 
does  not  know  the  type?  The  trusted  employee  of 
a  rich  customer,  once  so  keen  in  buying,  and  so 
ready  with  his  check-book,  now  transformed  into 
a  low-voiced  mendicant,  who  must  raise  a  certain 
sum  to  get  from  somewhere  to  somewhere  else. 

246 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

Matt  listened  to  those  transparent  subterfuges  which 
have  done  duty  for  a  thousand  years — decreased 
trade,  "don't  know  which  way  to  turn  myself," — 
and  all  the  rest  of  it,  retiring  crestfallen,  usually 
with  nothing,  though  once  with  three  dollars  and 
another  time  with  five. 

One  merchant  took  him  curtly  to  task. 

"Favors  breed  favors,"  he  said.  "You  always 
stood  out  for  your  pound  of  flesh.  It's  very  praise 
worthy  to  guard  your  boss's  interests,  but  if  you 
had  bought  of  us  at  catalogue  prices  you  would  have 
fallen  on  a  feather-bed  instead  of  the  cobbles." 

So  it  went  on  with  varying  rebuffs,  sometimes  not 
altogether  unkind,  sometimes  insufferable  in  their 
rudeness  and  rancor — with  a  rare  five,  and  once  a 
ten-dollar  gold  piece.  Chris  turned  whiter  and 
whiter  from  the  misery  of  repeated  failure  and  the 
fatigue  of  standing  and  loitering;  and  after  a  pre 
tense  at  lunch  in  a  cheap  eating-place  she  was  sent 
home  alone  while  Matt  continued  his  depressing 
tour.  By  four  o'clock  he  had  to  confess  himself 
beaten.  Except  for  a  ship-chandler  at  the  foot  of 
Market  Street,  the  list  of  possible  lenders  was  ex 
hausted.  But  he  had  never  put  much  business  in  this 
man's  way,  whose  last  name  he  had  some  trouble  in 
remembering.  Yes,  Coleman,  that  was  it — Joe  Cole- 
man,  a  jolly  old  Englishman  as  round  as  a  tub. 

Coleman  greeted  him  heartily — so  heartily  that 
Matt  was  ashamed  of  the  surprise  he  was  about  to 
spring. 

247 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"You'd  better  be  careful,  Joe,"  he  said,  with  a 
wretched  effort  at  a  smile.  "I'm  on  my  uppers,  and 
every  shake  of  my  hand  may  cost  you  five  dollars." 

"The  hell  it  will!"  exclaimed  Coleman,  in  sham 
trepidation.  "Here,  sit  down  on  that  barrel  and 
have  a  cigar.  Bless  you,  lad,  it's  like  old  times  to 
see  you  again.  Not  been  making  out  very  well, 
eh?  More  bumps  than  milk  punch?  Well,  cheer 
up,  and  pass  the  tambourine." 

Joe  was  a  common  old  fellow,  but  his  robust 
good-will  and  sympathy  were  very  warming.  Puff 
ing  at  his  cigar  and  leaning  against  an  anchor,  he 
told  Matt  "to  get  on  with  his  tale  of  woe." 

Matt  obeyed — but  with  reservations,  saying 
briefly  that  he  had  tried  shore  life  and  failed  and 
wanted  to  return  to  the  Islands. 

"That's  easy,"  said  Coleman.  "No  need  to  be 
so  blue  about  it." 

"Easy?  Do  you  think  I  can  swim  there  or  what?" 

"I  mean  I'm  good  for  a  hundred  dollars.  I  al 
ways  liked  you,  Broughton,  and  when  I  like  a  man 
it  don't  stop  at  the  trousers'  pocket.  Bless  your 
handsome  face,  it  don't.  All  you've  to  do  is  to  catch 
the  mail-boat  and  make  a  bee-line  for  the  cocoanuts 
and  the  wahines." 

"I  have  mine  with  me,  Joe.    I'm  married." 

"Oh,  I  say!"  Coleman  exclaimed,  rubbing  his 
chin  and  looking  worried.  "You've  been  going  it, 
haven't  you  ?  A  hundred  dollars  is  about  my  limit ; 
I  couldn't  go  more  than  a  hundred,  and  that's  what 

248 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

they  charge  for  a  single  passage  to  Samoa — hold  on, 
though,  I  have  it — ship  steward,  or  work  your  way, 
and  let  wifey  be  the  passenger." 

"But  they  would  make  me  sign  to  Australia — sign 
for  the  run." 

"Jump  the  ship." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Joe.  Suppose  they 
kept  me  and  landed  her.  It's  too  great  a  risk." 

"Oh,  you  could  manage  it." 

"I've  put  chaps  in  irons  myself  for  the  same  sort 
of  game,  and  I  tell  you,  Joe — " 

The  sentence  remained  unsaid,  and  Matt's  mouth 
stayed  open  as  Coleman  suddenly  dashed  to  the 
door  and  grabbed  the  arm  of  a  man  who  had  stopped 
for  a  moment  to  peer  in.  He  was  a  short,  thick-set 
person  of  a  seafaring  cut,  with  the  appearance  of  a 
North  German  or  a  Scandinavian,  and  popping  blue 
eyes  that  danced  with  good  humor.  He  was  ef 
fusively  introduced  to  Matt  as  Captain  Schwartz, 
of  the  schooner  Esmeralda. 

"You  damned  old ,"  cried  Coleman,  affection 
ately  flopping  him  in  the  stomach.  "Where  have 
you  been  keeping  yourself?  I  fancied  you  had  up 
with  the  mudhook  and  cleared  a  month  ago." 

"No  such  luck,"  growled  Captain  Schwartz  in  a 
strong  German  accent.  "Everybody  behind ;  every 
body  humbugging;  drouble,  drouble,  drouble  all  the 
time." 

"Here's  some  more,"  said  Coleman  cheerfully,  in 
dicating  Matt.  "He's  going  with  you,  and  when 

249 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

may  he  come  aboard?     He's  a  South  Sea  captain 
like  yourself,  and  has  lost  his  ship." 

"Ship?  Vat  ship?"  inquired  Schwartz,  awaken 
ing  to  interest. 

"The  topsail  schooner,  North  Star,"  said  Matt  in 
a  shiver  of  expectation  and  hope. 

"He's  stuck  here  without  a  cent,"  put  in  Coleman, 
"and  it  don't  matter  to  him  much  where  you  land 
him  as  long  as  it  is  something  dry,  with  a  palm  tree 
on  it  and  cold  missionary  on  the  sideboard." 

They  all  laughed  at  this,  and  then  Schwartz  said : 
"I  wasn't  meaning  to  stop  anywhere  this  side  of  the 
Solomons — but  he  can  gome,  he  can  gome!"  Lay 
ing  his  hand  on  Matt's  shoulder,  he  added:  "Old 
South  Sea  captains  should  stand  together.  You'd 
have  done  the  same  for  me,  and  dat  is  all  there  is 
to  it." 

"Then  you'll  give  me  a  passage?"  cried  Matt, 
hardly  able  to  credit  his  good  fortune. 

"Sure  I  will,"  returned  Schwartz,  "and  I'll  put 
you  ashore  anywhere  on  the  line  of  march." 

"His  wife's  along,"  interjected  Coleman,  winking 
at  Matt ;  "and  a  corking  young  woman  she  is,  too. 
Sings  splendid  and  plays  the  mandoleen,  and  it  will 
be  dandy  of  a  moonlight  night  to  sit  on  the  poop 
and  hear  her." 

"You  got  a  wife?"  asked  the  captain,  apparently 
much  pleased.  "Say,  but  dat  will  be  fine !  Young, 
she  is?" 

"Twenty-three/'  replied  Matt. 
250 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

Schwartz  looked  happier  than  ever. 

"You  come  on  to  Malaita,"  he  said.  "Me,  I  am 
married,  too,  and  got  two  leetle  babies,  so  high — 
everything  fine,  fine,  but  my  wife  she  is  very  lone 
some  for  white  society — I  think  she  jump  for  joy 
to  see  another  young  white  lady.  And  I'll  get  you 
a  good  poseetion  on  the  plantation  or  in  the  com 
pany's  store." 

The  good-hearted  little  captain  had  settled  it  all, 
and  volubly  repudiated  any  other  course  than  that 
Matt  should  accompany  him  to  the  Solomons.  The 
more  he  talked,  the  more  enthusiastic  he  became, 
opening  his  watch  and  showing  a  photograph  of  his 
wife  and  children.  His  wife  was  named  Hilda, 
and  this  was  Wilhelm,  and  this  was  Hildebrand, 
and — 

Joe,  who  believed  in  hitting  while  the  iron  was 
hot,  carried  them  down  the  street  to  a  bar,  where 
they  drank  a  cocktail  at  his  expense,  and  another 
round  at  the  captain's  expense,  and  another  round 
at  Matt's  expense,  and  grew  increasingly  friendly 
and  confidential.  Then  nothing  would  satisfy 
Schwartz  but  that  he  should  return  with  Matt  to 
Washington  Block  and  be  present  when  the  great 
news  was  broken  to  Chris.  Saying  good-by  to  Cole- 
man  they  started,  walking  arm  in  arm,  like  a 
pair  of  cronies,  with  tongues  loosened  by  the 
liquor  they  had  drunk,  and  Matt  inexpressibly 
grateful  and  elated — for  the  Esmeralda  was  to 
sail  the  next  day,  and  Schwartz  had  promised  him 

251 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

the  owner's  cabin,  as  well  as  inviting  him  and  Chris 
to  dine  on  board  that  very  night.  By  way  of  cele 
bration  Matt  bought  a  bunch  of  roses  and  a  box  of 
candy,  and  it  was  in  this  gala  fashion  and  with 
overflowing  spirits  that  he  mounted  the  stairs  of 
No.  7  and  knocked  at  Chris'  door. 

"Shake  hands  with  the  best  and  kindest  fellow  in 
the  world,"  he  exclaimed,  as  she  shrank  at  the  sight 
of  a  stranger.  "Chris,  this  is  Captain  Schwartz,  of 
the  schooner  Esmeralda,  who  has  dropped  from 
heaven  to  rescue  us." 

"Dis  is  the  first  time  I  was  ever  reported  from 
heaven,"  said  Schwartz,  laughing  explosively.  "De 
lighted  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Broughton. — No,  thank 
you,  I  vill  not  sit  down. — I  weeshed  merely  to  give 
my  invitation  in  person,  and  extend  the  courtesies  of 
my  ship  to  so  charming  a  lady." 

"Invitation?" 

Chris  raised  her  tear-stained  face  to  her  husband 
in  inquiry.  She  was  timid  and  confused,  and  at  a 
loss  to  understand  what  had  happened. 

"The  captain  wants  us  to  dine  on  board  to-night," 
Matt  explained,  "and  to-morrow  we  sail  with  him  to 
the  Islands!  Just  think  of  it,  Chris — we're  sailing 
to-morrow,  actually  sailing  to-morrow!" 

"Anywhere  you  like,  old  chap,"  put  in  Schwartz 
royally,  "though  if  you  will  listen  to  me,  Mrs. 
Broughton,  you  will  go  on  to  Malaita,  where  my 
wife  is,  and  the  captain  can  get  a  good  poseetion." 

"And  we're  to  have  the  owner's  cabin,  Chris," 
252 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

cried  Matt.  "Did  you  ever  hear  the  like  of  that! 
Isn't  that  kind,  though  ?  Isn't  that  wonderful  ?  Isn't 
that  dropping  from  heaven?" 

Chris,  now  excited  too,  admitted  that  it  was,  and 
with  shining  eyes  regarded  the  man  to  whom  they 
owed  so  much.  If  he  were  not  very  prepossessing  in 
appearance,  and  was  more  boisterous  and  familiar 
than  so  short  an  acquaintance  warranted,  he  cer 
tainly  must  have  a  heart  of  gold ;  and  she  ascribed 
his  shortcomings  to  a  not  unworthy  desire  to  place 
them  at  their  ease.  She  thanked  him  warmly,  and 
exerted  herself  with  all  her  woman's  art  to  cement 
a  friendship  that  seemed  destined  to  extricate  them 
from  their  difficulties. 

After  some  further  conversation  the  two  men  left 
her  to  complete  her  toilet,  and  a  little  later  she  joined 
them  at  the  entrance  of  No.  7.  From  here  they 
took  a  street-car  to  the  water-front,  where  they 
walked  along  on  foot  until  they  reached  the  wharf 
where  the  Esmeralda  was  lying.  In  contrast  with 
the  towering  clipper  ships  all  about  her  the  Esmer- 
alda  appeared  to  be  a  toy,  and  so  diminutive  that 
they  had  to  descend  to  her  deck  by  a  ladder.  She 
was  a  typical  South  Sea  schooner,  built  on  sharp 
and  yacht-like  lines  and  heavily  sparred  for  her  size, 
which  Schwartz  informed  them  was  ninety-four 
tons.  She  had  a  broad,  low  house  aft,  a  mainboom 
that  extended  twenty  feet  or  more  beyond  the  taff- 
rail,  and  in  her  waist,  on  chocks,  the  usual  dispro 
portionately  large  surf-boat. 

253 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

In  the  little  main  cabin  they  were  made  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Brandeis,  the  mate,  who  was  making  up 
his  accounts  at  the  table,  with  small  piles  of  gold 
and  silver  coin  stacked  on  the  various  bills.  Mr. 
Brandeis  was  a  very  fair,  irritable-looking  man 
of  fifty  or  so,  with  a  lank  mustache,  who  spoke 
no  English,  and  shook  hands  solemnly  at  his 
superior's'  bidding.  Then  he  sat  down  again  and 
resumed  his  occupation  of  counting  out  money  from 
a  cigar-box,  as  though  with  the  completion  of  that 
formality  his  share  of  the  social  function  was  over. 

"A  goot  chap,"  said  Captain  Schwartz,  smiling, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  mate's  shoulder.  "Reads 
books — all  the  time  he  reads  books — and  never  talks 
except  to  contradict  you,  and  say  you  are  a  liar  on 
page  seventy-nine,  or  a  dom  fool  on  page  two  hun 
dred  and  three.  Some  day  I'll  throw  him  overboard 
and  shoot  his  books  after  him  and  say:  'Go  and 
prove  it  to  the  feesh !' ' 

This  amused  the  captain  so  much  that  he  had  to 
repeat  it  in  German  to  Brandeis,  who  answered 
somewhat  curtly,  and  tugged  at  his  mustache  as 
though  none  too  pleased.  Matt  thought  it  spoke 
rather  poorly  of  the  ship's  discipline  that  the  mate 
took  the  joke  in  such  bad  part.  It  would  not  have 
happened  on  his  vessel,  he  said  to  himself,  and  be 
fore  guests.  But  Schwartz  did  not  seem  to  mind, 
and  turned  away  without  the  least  annoyance  to 
show  them  the  cabins. 

There  was  one  on  either  side  of  the  main-cabin, 
254 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

the  captain's  to  starboard,  the  mate's  on  the  port 
side.  Beyond  the  captain's,  and  reached  by  a  nar 
row  passageway,  was  the  "owner's  cabin" — another 
cubical  with  barely  room  for  a  couple  of  bunks, 
superimposed.  Like  the  others,  it  was  very  fresh 
and  clean,  with  a  couple  of  portholes  giving  am 
ple  light,  and  enough  locker-space  to  put  away  a 
considerable  amount  of  clothes.  There  was  a  tiny 
washstand  in  one  corner,  a  bracket  with  a  brass 
lamp,  and  a  strip  of  new  matting  on  the  floor. 

"This  is  where  you  will  live,"  said  the  captain  to 
Chris,  who  was  regarding  everything  with  much 
curiosity.  "And  if  you  wish  to  do  any  shopping,  I 
hope  you  will  not  forget  our  old  established  peezi- 
ness!"  As  he  spoke  he  opened  the  door  opposite 
and  ushered  her  into  the  trade-room.  This  was  the 
largest  cabin  on  the  ship,  and  was  a  veritable  float 
ing  shop,  with  a  counter  and  shelves,  scales  and 
primitive  showcases.  It  contained  everything  un 
der  the  sun,  from  brass  wedding-rings,  Waterbury 
watches,  tools  of  all  kinds,  jews'-harps  and  flints  for 
flintlock  muskets,  to  boat-anchors,  kegs  of  dynamite, 
barrels  of  beef  and  pork,  and  innumerable  bolts  of 
gaily  printed  cottons.  Behind  the  counter  and  still 
open  was  a  small  hatchway  that  gave  access  to  the 
hold  beneath,  from  which  the  voices  of  sailors  could 
be  heard. 

"We  are  going  down  pretty  light,"  expiated  the 
captain,  "and  the  mate  thinks  he  can  make  a  faster 
passage  by  shifting  some  ballast  aft." 

255 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"But  what  do  you  want  with  all  those  things?" 
asked  Chris,  to  whom  a  sea-shop  was  a  novelty. 

"Sell  them  to  the  noble  savage  at  three  hundred 
per  cent,  profit,"  returned  Schwartz,  laughing. 

"But  what  are  those  guns  over  there  for  in  the 
rack?" 

"To  shoot  him  if  he  ain't  satisfied! — They  are  a 
tricky  lot,  Mrs.  Broughton,  and,  like  all  customers, 
are  ready  to  beat  you  down — only  they  do  it  with  a 
cloob!" 

Chris  shrank  a  little  closer  to  Matt,  who  reassured 
her  by  remarking  that  their  islands  would  not  be  like 
that. 

"The  captain  means  the  Solomons,"  he  said. 
"Down  there  they  are  coal-black  and  eat  you  for 
dinner,  but  our  people  are  a  nice  brown  and  wouldn't 
hurt  a  fly." 

"YouVe  never  told  me  where  you  want  to  go," 
put  in  Schwartz.  "Vare  is  that  delightful  place  so 
different  from  the  Solomons  ?" 

"Really,  Captain,  I  don't  want  to  take  you  out 
of  your  course,"  returned  Matt  seriously.  "The 
Gilbert  Islands  are  in  your  way — drop  us  there 
anywhere." 

Schwartz  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What's  a  few  days,  more  or  less,"  he  exclaimed. 
"No,  you  tell  me  vare  you  vant  to  go,  and  there  I 
shall  sail — though  why  not  Malaita  ?" 

"The  Tokelaus  would  suit  me  best." 

"The  Tokelaus,  vare  is  dem?" 
256 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

"Well,  the  Union  Islands — to  call  them  the  name 
they  have  on  most  charts." 

"The  Union  Islands!  Yass,  I  know  the  Union 
Islands.  A  little  south,  but  what's  that  ?  Old  South 
Sea  captains  should  stand  together,  that's  what  I 
say!" 

"Oh,  Captain,  I'll  never  be  able  to  thank  yon 
enough." 

"Dat's  all  foolishness,  Broughton.  You  would 
do  the  same  for  me." 

Schwartz's  tone  was  cordiality  itself;  indeed,  his 
spirits  seemed  to  rise  with  his  companions',  and  his 
good-nature  increased  to  an  hilarious  pitch.  He 
kept  laughing  from  sheer  exuberance,  and  as  he  led 
the  way  back  on  deck  he  gave  Mr.  Brandeis  a 
hearty  poke  in  the  ribs  and  told  him  they  were 
bound  for  the  Tokelau  Islands.  The  mate  paid 
scarcely  any  attention,  except  to  nod,  and  continued 
to  dip  into  the  cigar-box  of  cash  with  a  sardonic 
expression  that  appeared  to  be  habitual  with  him. 
But  as  they  were  mounting  the  companion-ladder, 
Matt  looked  back  and  perceived  him  galvanized  into 
a  belated  interest,  with  a  chart  in  front  of  him,  and 
an  eager  thumb  evidently  seeking  the  Union  Archi 
pelago. 

They  stayed  on  the  poop,  talking,  and  watching 
the  sun  go  down,  until  a  Japanese  steward  appeared 
to  announce  that  supper  was  ready.  They  fol 
lowed  him  below,  where,  to  Matt's  surprise,  he 
found  the  mate  included  in  the  party.  They  drew 

257 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

up  their  stools  to  the  table,  which  looked  very  invit 
ing  with  its  spotless  table-cloth,  a  vase  of  sweet-peas, 
and  a  bottle  of  sparkling  Moselle  set  at  the  captain's 
right  hand.  The  china,  glass  and  cutlery  were  of  the 
commonest,  but  they  suited  the  pleasant  sea  atmos 
phere  of  the  cabin,  and  spoke  of  homely  comfort 
and  of  a  simplicity  not  without  a  charm  of  its  own. 

The  meal  was  to  match,  substantial  and  plain,  in 
cluding  plum-duff  and  Limburger  cheese.  The  cap 
tain  kept  the  bottle  busy,  ordered  another  and  kept 
that  busy  too,  drinking  every  one's  health  in  turn 
with  German  punctiliousness.  This  involved  drink 
ing  the  captain's  health  in  turn,  the  silent  mate's 
health — everybody's  health — with  formality  and 
bowing  and  much  clinking  of  glasses.  To  Chris  it 
was  a  peep  into  another  life,  and  struck  her  as  ex 
traordinarily  picturesque  and  interesting.  She  en 
joyed  the  deference  of  these  rough  men,  appreciated 
their  unaffected  kindness — tinged  with  romance  and 
sparkling  Moselle.  The  jolly  little  captain  had 
placed  the  whole  ship  at  her  disposal  and  had  ap 
pointed  her  queen  of  the  ocean.  He  was  rewarded 
by  being  made  a  baron,  at  which  Mr.  Brandeis  un 
bent  sufficiently  to  take  mock  offense,  and  had  to  be 
consoled  by  a  decoration  of  blue  ribbon  from  Chris* 
neck — the  Exalted  Order  of  Jonah,  with  the  privi 
lege  of  wearing  a  jeweled  whale  on  state  occasions. 

Afterward  black  coffee  was  served  on  deck  in 
white  mugs  with  handles,  and  a  phonograph  was 
set  going  by  the  mate  and  continued  by  the  Japanese 

258 


A  FRIEND  DROPS  FROM  HEAVEN 

steward.  As  Chris  was  chilly  and  had  brought  no 
wrap,  the  captain  doubled  up  the  German  flag  and 
folded  her  in  it ;  and  it  was  thus  draped  that  she  sat 
on  the  poop  and  held  Matt's  hand  in  the  dark. 
Above  them  rose  the  bow  of  a  huge  four-master, 
whose  sailors  were  clustered  together,  also  listening 
to  the  music,  and  occasionally  joining  in  one  of  the 
choruses.  The  water  slopped  against  the  piles  and 
gurgled  along  the  schooner's  sides;  red  and  green 
lights  skimmed  the  shadowy  surface  of  the  bay, 
borne  by  unseen  tugs  or  launches ;  giant  ferry  boats 
glimmered  in  the  distance  and  blew  melodious  warn 
ings  from  their  deep-toned  throats.  To  the  young 
lady  in  the  German  flag  it  was  an  evening  never  to 
be  forgotten;  she  felt  herself  on  the  edge  of  an  un 
known  world ;  she  was  glad  of  the  phonograph  that 
allowed  her  to  lie  back  and  dream  undisturbed. 

"Ten  o'clock  to-morrow,"  said  the  captain  as  they 
stood  on  the  wharf.  "We  tow  out  with  the  tide,  you 
know — mustn't  keep  us  waiting." 

"You  will  see  us  at  dawn,"  returned  Matt  with  a 
laugh.  "Won't  he,  Chris?" 

"At  breakfast,  anyhow,"  she  answered  gaily. 
"May  we  come  to  breakfast,  Baron?" 

"May  you  come?"  exclaimed  Schwartz.  "Vat  a 
foolish  vay  for  a  queen  to  talk  about  her  royal 
yacht.  Behold,  I  vill  order  ze  gold  plates,  and  in 
struct  ze  major-domo  to  warn  ze  Japanese  gentle- 
men-in-waiting !" 

259 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

With  this  they  parted,  the  captain  descending  the 
ladder  while  Matt  and  Chris  walked  through  the 
vast  shed  and  past  the  watchman  at  the  gate. 

"Oh,  Matt,  isn't  he  splendid!" 

"Schwartz?  Why,  he's  just  the  best  little  fellow 
that  ever  lived." 

"And  I  liked  the  mate,  too — liked  him  im 
mensely." 

"So  did  I.  He's  one  of  those  quiet  men  that  grow 
on  you." 

"And  wasn't  the  Moselle  good,  though!" 

"And  the  dinner!  By  George,  what  a  change 
after  those  ring-a-ling  eating-houses,  and  that  slabby 
marble  place  to-day,  where  you  seemed  to  be  eating 
off  tombstones." 

"And  we're  going,  Matt — we're  going!" 

"Sail  to-morrow  at  ten  o'clock !" 

"It's  like  a  fairy  tale,  isn't  it?  Think  of  our  hav 
ing  a  little  fairy  ship  all  ready  and  waiting  for  us !" 

"It  makes  me  shiver  to  think  at  how  narrowly  we 
might  have  missed  it." 

"But  Matt,  we've  caught  it!  Just  by  one  day, 
we've  caught  it !" 

It  is  supposed  to  be  extremely  indecorous  to  show 
affection  on  the  street ;  but  it  was  such  a  dark  street, 
and  there  was  nobody  in  sight  anywhere,  and  why 
shouldn't  an  ecstatically  happy  man  kiss  his  ecstat 
ically  happy  little  wife,  and  even  press  her  for  a  mo 
ment  to  his  heart  ? 

If  the  stars  blinked,  well — 
260 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 

r  I  ^EN  days  had  passed  since  the  tug  cast  them 
-••  off  beyond  the  Golden  Gate,  and  with  three 
toots  of  farewell  left  them  to  shift  for  themselves. 
Ten  days  of  heavenly  peace,  with  the  sails  scarcely 
touched,  and  rustling  softly  before  an  unfailing 
breeze.  The  air  was  balmy;  the  recurring  bells,  as 
the  helmsman  struck  the  time,  alone  measured  a 
pleasant  monotony  that  seemed  otherwise  to  have 
no  break.  There  were  glorious  sunsets,  velvety 
nights,  mornings  of  magic  freshness,  and  always  in 
the  center  of  that  silent  world  was  the  Esmerctlda, 
dipping  her  nose  in  the  long  blue  swell. 

She  was  a  very  quiet  ship.  In  all  his  sea-experi 
ence  Matt  had  never  known  a  quieter.  There  was 
none  of  the  usual  singing,  no  horseplay,  no  loud 
good-humor — no  fo'castle  accordion,  no  fo'castle 
jollity.  In  all,  there  were  seven  men  forward, 
who  might  have  been  seven  authors,  from  the  assid 
uous  way  they  read — grave,  oldish  men  for  the  most 
part,  always  glued  to  books  under  that  tarpaulin  in 
the  waist.  Herman  was  the  only  youth  among 
them — tall,  whitey-blond  Herman,  who  tried  to 
make  friends  with  the  passengers  till  he  was 

261 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

squelched  by  the  mate.  After  that  he  became  a 
reader  too,  though  rather  an  unwilling  reader,  much 
given  to  lying  on  his  back  and  staring  up  at  the  sky. 
In  fact,  that  appeared  to  be  his  principal  occupation, 
for  he  never  took  a  trick  at  the  wheel  nor  lifted  his 
hand  to  a  rope,  even  during  a  squall  or  in  any  other 
emergency. 

Schwartz,  though  less  of  a  reader  than  Brandeis 
or  the  others,  very  soon  ran  dry  as  a  conversational 
ist.  He  became  bottled  up  and  uncommunicative, 
spending  hours  at  a  time  in  his  cabin,  or  walking  up 
and  down  the  poop  in  a  brown  study  none  dared  to 
disturb.  This  was  the  only  prerogative  of  a  captain 
that  he  treated  himself  to,  beyond  taking  his  place  at 
the  head  of  the  table.  Mr.  Brandeis  took  all  the 
observations,  gave  all  the  orders;  shortened  sail  or 
ran  up  kites  without  even  going  through  the  form  of 
consulting  his  superior.  He  was  the  virtual  com 
mander  of  the  ship,  and  made  very  little  pretense 
that  he  was  not.  Matt  noted  that  Schwartz  stood  no 
watch,  but  allowed  his  to  be  taken  by  the  second 
mate,  a  ponderous  individual  of  sixty,  with  white 
side-whiskers,  who  was  called  Krantz  and  berthed 
forward  with  the  men. 

This  familiarity  between  officers  and  men  was 
new  to  Matt.  Mr.  Brandeis  was  not  above  mixing 
with  them  under  the  tarpaulin,  and  adding  his  cigar 
and  book  to  that  sprawling  circle.  Here  he  might  be 
seen,  prone  with  the  rest,  often  on  one  elbow,  talk 
ing  in  an  emphatic,  scolding  manner  as  though  chal- 

262 


A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 

lenging  contradiction  and  overriding  it  roughshod. 
Matt  had  to  admit  that  the  mate  did  not  appear  to 
lose  caste  in  consequence.  On  the  contrary,  he  was 
treated  with  great  respect,  and  Herman  in  particular 
never  failed  to  spring  up  at  his  approach,  no  matter 
how  engrossed  he  might  be  at  the  moment  in  the 
sky. 

The  two  Japanese,  Yonida,  the  steward,  and  Fusi, 
the  cook,  were  not  behindhand,  either,  as  readers. 
Yonida  was  a  man  of  evident  intelligence;  his 
library  included  a  work  on  conic  sections,  Gibbon's 
Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  a  num 
ber  of  others  of  the  same  massive  caliber.  Poor, 
fat-faced,  stupid  Fusi  held  tight  to  the  only  book  he 
possessed,  Samuel  Smiles'  Self-Help,  which  he  ab 
sorbed  with  the  painstaking  industry  of  a  boa-con 
strictor.  Sitting  at  the  door  of  his  spotless  galley, 
often  with  the  bread-pans  stretched  out  in  front  of 
him,  each  loaded  with  dough  and  awaiting  some 
mysterious  completion,  Fusi  would  engage  in  the 
struggle  of  adding  one  more  paragraph  of  Self- 
Help  to  his  slowly  acquired  store.  Matt  could  not 
pass  him  without  being  asked  what  "intention" 
meant,  or  "precluded,"  or  some  other  equally  insur 
mountable  rock  that  was  blocking  Fusi's  path  to 
knowledge.  He  wrote  down  the  answers  in  a  little 
washing-book,  and  boa-constrictored  them  with  an 
abstracted  air,  till  you  almost  seemed  to  see  the 
hind-legs  of  the  word  sticking  out  of  his  mouth. 

An  indefinable  suspicion  was  beginning  to  creep 

263 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

into  Matt's  mind  that  there  was  something  wrong 
with  the  ship.  The  transformation  of  Schwartz 
from  an  amiable,  talkative,  friendly  little  man  into 
the  taciturn  creature  who  paced  the  poop,  or  wrote 
for  hours  in  his  cabin,  struck  oddly  on  Matt's  atten 
tion.  The  gruff  mate  was  gruffer  than  ever,  and 
showed  an  increasing  disinclination  to  let  Matt  see 
the  chart  as  the  vessel's  course  was  plotted  from  day 
to  day.  There  was  none  of  the  usual  thawing  that 
takes  place  on  a  long  voyage,  none  of  the  usual  inti 
macy  and  good-fellowship.  Of  all  the  crew,  Her 
man  had  been  the  only  one  to  make  any  advances, 
and  his  had  been  the  only  smile  to  greet  Matt  and 
Chris,  until  Brandeis  had  roughly  sent  him  about  his 
business — if  lying  under  the  lee  of  the  surf-boat  and 
gazing  for  ever  at  the  sky  could  be  called  a  business. 
Herman  seemed  privileged  to  do  this  as  much  as  he 
pleased,  undisturbed.  And  these  white  and  whisk 
ered  patriarchs  ? — Was  it  a  floating  old  men's  home, 
or  what  ? 

The  humorous  view  with  which  these  things  were 
at  first  regarded  changed  imperceptibly  as  time  wore 
on.  Who  was  this  strange  Schwartz,  and  this  strange 
Brandeis,  and  what  had  been  the  secret  of  the  for 
mer's  impulsive  good-will  in  San  Francisco  ?  Noth 
ing  now  was  heard  of  old  South  Sea  captains  stand 
ing  together.  The  amazing  fact  dawned  on  Matt 
that  Schwartz  was  no  seaman  at  all,  but  a  landsman 
masquerading  as  the  master  of  the  vessel.  A  few 
questions,  put  as  a  test,  had  shown  his  abysmal 

264 


A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 

ignorance  of  the  sea  and  of  everything  appertain 
ing  to  it.  Yet  for  whose  benefit  could  such  an  im 
posture  be  practised  ?  Surely  not  for  his  and  Chris', 
though —  Was  it  possible  that  they  were  prisoners 
on  this  singular  ship?  Comfortable,  well-fed,  po 
litely-treated — prisoners  ? 

To  increase  Matt's  misgivings,  Chris,  who  was  a 
lighter  sleeper  than  himself,  had  been  hearing 
"noises"  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  She  described 
them  as  "funny,  snapping  sounds"  that  commenced 
after  Schwartz  had  passed  their  door,  and  looked  in 
— as  though  to  assure  himself  that  they  were  asleep. 
She  was  so  positive  of  this  that  Matt  could  not  shake 
her,  which,  with  incredulity,  he  tried  to  do.  No,  it 
was  not  a  dream.  No,  she  had  seen  him  just  as 
plainly  as  she  now  saw  Matt.  In  pajamas,  bare 
footed,  and  peering  in — she  could  not  be  mistaken. 
One  only  dreamed  a  dream  once,  but  this  happened 
regularly,  and  besides,  there  were  the  "noises." 

Matt  determined  to  stay  awake  and  see  and  hear 
for  himself.  If  it  were  fancy  on  Chris'  part,  the 
sooner  she  was  undeceived  the  better,  for  she  was 
nervous  and  frightened,  and  had  moments  of  pas 
sionately  wishing  they  had  never  set  foot  on  the 
Esmeralda.  Accordingly,  one  night,  instead  of 
climbing  to  the  berth  above,  Matt  tucked  in  with 
Chris  below,  with  the  idea  that  it  would  be  less  easy 
to  fall  asleep  in  such  extremely  confined  quarters. 

Midnight  struck — eight  bells.  Half  after  mid 
night — one  bell.  One  o'clock — two  bells.  Half 

265 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

after  one — three  bells.  He  grew  drowsier  and 
drowsier.  Why  would  not  Chris  leave  him  alone? 
— Awake?  Of  course  he  was  awake,  only  that  he 
was  in  his  old  bedroom  at  Mrs.  Sattane's,  and — 
He  was  roused  again,  and  was  made  to  understand, 
not  without  difficulty,  that  four  bells  had  just  gone ; 
was  shaken  and  pummeled  till  he  sat  up  and  bumped 
his  head.  It  bumped  him  back  to  consciousness,  and 
to  a  realization  of  the  watch  he  was  supposed  to  be 
keeping.  He  crouched  there,  now  wide  awake  and 
alert,  listening  intently. 

Suddenly  Chris  clutched  him. 

"He's  coming,"  she  whispered.  "Matt,  he's  com 
ing — I  heard  the  door — =" 

Matt  held  his  breath.  The  door  must  have  indeed 
opened,  for  the  passageway  became  lighted,  although 
dimly,  by  the  lamp  in  the  main-cabin.  Matt  hur 
riedly  lay  down  and  closed  his  eyes  almost  shut, 
peeping  through  the  lashes.  As  he  did  so  he  had  a 
sight  of  Schwartz,  tiptoeing  past  their  door.  No, 
not  past  it,  for  the  man  stopped  on  his  way  and  cast 
a  quick  glance  within.  He  was  in  his  pajamas ;  his 
face  was  a  study  of  furtiveness  and  caution;  he,  too, 
was  holding  his  breath  and  seemed  to  be  on  edge 
with  suspense.  Then  he  tiptoed  on  and  was  seen  no 
more. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you?"  murmured  Chris.  "In  a  mo 
ment  the  noises  will  begin." 

"Sh-h-h,"  returned  Matt.     "Sh-h-h!" 

It  was  more  than  a  moment,  however,  before  the 
266 


A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 

quiet  was  disturbed.  Both  waited  with  straining 
ears,  but  nothing  came  to  them  beyond  the  rippling 
of  the  water  along  the  schooner's  keel,  and  the  creak 
of  cordage  and  timbers  as  the  vessel  sank  into  the 
swell  or  rose  on  its  turgid  crest.  A  ship  under  way 
is  never  altogether  silent ;  she  moves  with  a  myriad 
plaintive  noises,  some  of  them  lullingly  liquid,  others 
hoarse  and  humming. 

"There!    There!"  exclaimed  Chris. 

A  peculiar  jarring  sound  became  faintly  audible, 
as  though  some  machinery  had  been  set  in  motion. 
But  it  was  too  irregular  for  machinery,  and  had  an 
indescribable  thrilling  quality  that  Matt  was  at  a  loss 
to  account  for.  The  cabin  shivered  with  it;  it  was 
as  fine  as  the  lash  of  a  whip  and  as  vicious,  as  it 
seemed  to  sting  the  air.  Matt  leaped  from  the  bunk, 
despite  Chris'  entreaties.  By  George,  he  was  go 
ing  to  see  what  it  was;  follow  Schwartz  and 
find  out.  Harm?  Well,  wasn't  it  better  to  risk  a 
little  than  to  cower  under  the  coverlet  like  ninnies  ? 
There  had  always  been  something  wrong  with  the 
ship,  something  queer — but  this  was  the  climax.  She 
must  let  him  go — he  had  to  go. 

He  stole  into  the  passage  toward  the  door 
that  opened  on  the  waist  companion-ladder.  The 
door  was  shut,  and  for  an  instant  he  hesitated,  with 
his  hand  on  the  knob.  Then  he  drew  it  back,  slipped 
swiftly  down  the  ladder  and  gained  the  lee  of  the 
galley.  Here,  bent  double,  he  stopped  to  reconnoiter, 
attempting  to  pierce  the  deep  shadows  about  him, 

267 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  wondering  whether  they  did  not  conceal  eyes  as 
watchful  as  his  own. 

Little  by  little  he  regained  his  courage.  The  night 
was  intensely  dark;  if  he  had  gone  thus  far  without 
detection  the  rest  ought  not  to  be  hard.  All  the 
while  there  was  that  snap-snap-snapping,  ominous 
and  startling,  that  appeared  to  have  its  source  at  the 
foot  of  the  foremast.  He  crept  along  the  surf -boat, 
pausing  at  the  forward  chock  in  which  its  stem  was 
imbedded,  and  huddled  against  it.  But  what  was 
that  opaque  and  unexpected  mass  outlined  just  for 
ward  of  the  foremast  ?  An  erection  seven  or  eight 
feet  high,  and  about  half  that  width,  which  loomed 
before  him,  silhouetted  against  the  stars? 

He  nerved  himself  to  advance  again,  with  the 
stealth  of  a  hunter  stalking  a  deer — slowly,  crouch- 
ingly,  taking  advantage  of  every  cover;  dubious 
even  of  the  starlight ;  inch  by  inch,  obliquely,  so  as  to 
reach  the  starboard  scuppers,  pass  the  foremast  and 
be  able  to  look  back.  A  voice  was  now  intermingled 
with  that  snap-snap-snapping,  keeping  pace  with  it — 
a  man's  voice,  guttural,  thick  and  droning,  the  words 
half -drowned  in  the  rasp  and  sizzle. 

Matt  worked  his  way  along  the  scuppers,  head 
down,  scraping  the  side  of  the  ship,  feeling  in  front 
with  his  hands,  propelling  himself  from  behind  with 
his  naked  feet.  He  was  on  fire  with  curiosity,  yet 
was  patient ;  snailing  on  and  on,  not  daring  to  turn 
till  he  had  reached  the  gear  of  the  jibs,  which 
marked  the  limit  he  had  set,  before  he  would  risk 

268 


A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 

rising  to  discover  the  secret  of  this  extraordinary 
affair. 

It  was  an  astonishing  sight  that  met  his  gaze. 
Forward  of  the  foremast  was  a  sort  of  hut,  con 
structed  of  mattresses,  forming  a  wind-break  or 
shield,  open  only  to  the  fo'castle.  Within  it,  seated 
on  a  box,  was  Herman,  bent  over  an  apparatus,  and 
causing  it,  by  means  of  a  small  brass  handle,  to  emit 
that  astounding  buzzing,  as  well  as  an  incessant  sput 
ter  of  sparks  and  flashes.  There  was  no  listlessness 
now  in  that  gawky  youth.  His  expression  was  keen ; 
his  hand  moved  the  key  with  lightning  precision ; 
he  had  an  unmistakable  air  of  mastery  and  skill,  as 
of  a  man  engaged  in  something  he  excelled  in.  Be 
side  him  stood  Schwartz,  holding  a  lantern,  and  ap 
parently  dictating  from  a  sheaf  of  papers.  The  little 
captain,  also,  was  transformed ;  had  the  same  look  of 
capacity  and  absorption;  had  something  even  more, 
something  formidable  and  military  in  his  bearing,  as 
though  dealing  with  vital  issues  on  the  battlefield 
itself. 

Wireless !  Of  course  it  was  the  wireless.  Matt  had 
read  of  it,  but  had  never  seen  it  before  in  action. 
Zi,  zi — zizizizi — zi — zi-zi-zi-zi-zi !  The  brass  lever 
darted  up  and  down,  lingered  and  snapped  amid  a 
splutter  of  sparks  and  flashes;  the  captain,  holding 
his  place  with  his  thumb,  reeled  off  sentence  after 
sentence  in  a  low,  vibrant  voice;  the  lantern  light 
flickered  over  the  yellow  sheets,  over  Herman's  bent 
head,  encased  in  a  curious  harness,  over  the  gleam- 

269 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

ing  apparatus.  Occasionally  Schwartz  was  warned 
to  stop.  The  machine  no  longer  transmitting,  would 
receive.  Zi,  zizi,  zi-zi-zi-zi— with  this  time  Herman 
repeating,  word  by  word,  the  message  thus  mysteri 
ously  caught  from  space,  while  Schwartz  listened 
darkly,  with  preoccupation,  seeing  the  unseen,  weigh 
ing  and  understanding  what  was  being  told  him. 

Matt  returned  as  he  had  come,  more  concerned 
than  ever  not  to  betray  himself.  The  discovery 
had  daunted  him;  he  was  in  the  grip  of  terror; 
he  had  the  sensation  of  a  man  with  the  roar 
of  Niagara  in  his  ears,  and  his  boat  nearing  the 
brink.  Who  were  these  people?  What  was  their 
purpose?  With  whom  were  they  communicating 
across  the  night  ?  Whose  was  the  hand  that  held  the 
answering  key  ?  Whose  the  mind  that  directed  the 
little  vessel  from  afar?  He  had  been  lured  aboard 
her ;  had  been  tricked  like  a  child ;  was  being  borne, 
virtually  a  prisoner,  to — what  ? 

He  was  so  agitated  that  he  could  scarcely  speak, 
as  Chris,  on  guard  at  the  door,  shut  it  behind  him, 
and  breathlessly  asked  what  he  had  seen. 

"They're  working  a  wireless  apparatus,"  he  an 
swered. 

"Wireless,  Matt !  You  don't  mean  a  wireless  tele 
graph?" 

"Yes.  Herman's  operating  it  and  Schwartz  is 
sending  messages." 

"You  actually  saw  them?" 

"Yes,  inside  a  lot  of  mattresses  by  the  foremast — 
270 


A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 

to  deaden  the  sound,  of  course,  and  keep  us  from 
hearing." 

It  was  Chris'  turn  to  tremble — to  feel  that  sud 
den  catch  at  the  heart. 

"Why— why  should  they  do  that,  Matt?" 

"God  knows." 

"Do  you  suppose  it  had  a-a-any thing  to  do  with 
u-us?" 

"They  wouldn't  hide  it  if  it  hadn't." 

"But  what  are  we  to  do?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Couldn't  you  speak  to  Schwartz — make  a  stand 
about  it — threaten  him  ?" 

"What  with?" 

"Well—" 

Matt  laughed. 

"We're  prisoners  on  this  damned  ship,"  he  said. 
"Chris,  they've  kidnapped  us." 

"But  isn't  that  a  terrible  thing  to  do?" 

"For  us— yes." 

"But  couldn't  they  all  be  punished  and  sent  to 
prison?" 

"Possibly  if  the  Oregon  ranged  alongside — but 
where  is  your  Oregon?" 

"Then  we  are  utterly  helpless?" 

"That's  about  it." 

"You  don't  think  they  ever  meant  to  land  us  in 
theTokelaus?" 

"Chris,  this  whole  ship,  and  the  whole  crew,  must 
have  been  waiting  for  us  in  San  Francisco,  like  a  lot 

271 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

of  spiders  for  two  little  flies.  Tokelaus!  We'll 
never  see  any  Tokelaus.  That  was  all  part  of  the 
scheme  to  hoodwink  us — to  get  us  away." 

"But  what  could  they  want  with  us  ?" 

"Want  with  us  ?    Why,  they  want  John  Mort !" 

"Oh,  Matt!" 

"Yes,  the  same  people  who  are  running  this  ship 
are  the  same  that  drove  me  out  of  Manas  wan !  Brib 
ing  me  failed;  force  failed,  but  they  were  cunning 
enough  to  know  that  rather  than  starve  I'd  double 
back  to  the  islands.  So  there  was  Schwartz  all 
ready,  with  his  ship  and  his  blarney,  and  his  spider's 
web  across  the  road  I  was  bound  to  take." 

"But  if  that  were  so,  why  should  they  be  back 
ward  now?" 

"Backward?" 

"Why  hasn't  the  captain  tried  to  make  you  tell? 
Tried  to  force  you  to  tell  ?" 

"That's  coming.  As  sure  as  I  am  alive,  that's 
coming." 

"Coming?" 

"When  we  reach  the  people  who  are  answering 
our  wireless.  There's  hell  ahead,  Chris." 

"Well,  in  that  case,  you'll  simply  have  to  take  the 
only  way  out." 

"I'll  never  do  that— never." 

"But  Matt,  they  might—" 

"Sure  to.  I'll  have  to  stand  all  I  can.  A  pretty 
black  lookout,  isn't  it  ?" 

272 


A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY 

"Rather  than  have  you  hurt  I'll  tell  everything 
myself." 

"You  shan't." 

"I  will,  Matt,  I  will!" 

"You  don't  know  where  this  island  is.  You  don't 
know  the  bearings.  What  could  you  tell  them  that 
they  don't  know  ?" 

She  whispered  something  back  that  blanched  his 
face. 

For  a  moment  he  was  silent.  It  had  never  come  to 
him  that  their  deviltry  might  be  turned  against  Chris. 

"By  God,  I'll  sink  the  ship  first !"  he  cried. 


273 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW 

IT  was  difficult,  once  the  Esmeralda  had  been  re 
vealed  in  her  true  character,  to  maintain  the  fic 
tion  of  unconcern.  But  it  was  evident  policy  to  do 
so,  lest  something  worse  might  befall,  and  Matt  and 
Chris  were  perseveringly  friendly  to  the  careworn 
captain,  and  to  the  sulky,  sardonic  mate.  They 
judged  it  wise  to  talk  a  great  deal  of  the  Tokelaus, 
and  of  their  plan  afterward  to  reach  Samoa  and 
start  a  little  cacao  plantation.  Schwartz  had  alto 
gether  abandoned  the  pretense  of  inviting  them  to 
continue  the  trip  to  Malaita.  But  they  discussed  it 
openly  as  a  possibility  they  had  considered  and 
finally  negatived,  preferring  Samoa  and  cacao.  Sit 
ting  at  the  cabin  table,  and  under  the  unrelaxing 
scrutiny  of  their  two  jailers,  they  estimated  the 
number  of  trees  they  meant  to  plant  to  an  acre,  the 
proper  shade  to  be  used,  the  various  methods  of  fer 
menting  the  product — figuring  profits,  and  fre 
quently,  for  the  sake  of  appearance,  disagreeing 
quite  hotly. 

Privately,  a  much  more  important  matter  was 
engrossing  their  attention.  Matt's  cry,  wrung  from 
his  desperation,  that  he  would  sink  the  schooner  had 

274 


DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW 

given  him  the  germ  of  an  idea.  Yes,  why  not  sink 
her — not  from  any  notion  of  wild  revenge — but  as 
a  well-calculated  solution  of  the  perils  surrounding 
them  ?  To  wait,  in  fact,  until  they  knew  there  were 
islands  near  them  and  then,  sinking  the  vessel,  com 
pel  Schwartz  to  take  to  the  surf-boat.  This  was  a 
fine,  big,  carvel-built  boat,  twenty-six  feet  long,  and 
Matt  tested  it  with  his  penknife  to  make  sure  it 
was  sound.  It  would  easily  hold  all  hands,  with 
ample  provisions  and  water,  and  a  trip  of  sixty  or 
eighty  miles  in  it  would  be  no  terrible  hardship. 
Compared  to  the  unknown  dangers  that  grew  daily 
nearer,  the  hazard  of  such  an  escape  seemed  small 
indeed.  And  once  ashore — anywhere  ashore — they 
would  be  safe,  for  however  primitive  and  loose  the 
little  native  governments  are,  they  are  strong  enough 
to  protect  the  lives  and  persons  of  those  within  their 
rule.  The  native  populations  are  essentially  law- 
abiding;  elementary  human  rights  are  enforced  with 
guns  and  shark-toothed  clubs;  on  the  smallest  atoll 
Schwartz  would  find  himself  powerless  for  evil, 
with  an  excellent  chance  of  being  tied  hand  and  foot 
in  cocoanut  sinnett  and  cast  into  a  coral  prison  if  he 
attempted  to  coerce  or  interfere  with  a  man  so  fa 
miliar  with  South  Sea  ways  as  Matt. 

But  to  sink  the  Esmeralda!  That  was  so  easy  to 
say!  Of  course  a  stick  of  dynamite  would  send  her 
to  the  bottom  in  short  order,  and  there  was  plenty  of 
the  deadly  stuff  in  the  trade-room,  together  with 
caps  and  fuses.  But  that  was  suicide.  That  was  to 

275 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

open  a  barn-door  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  The  alterna 
tive  was  to  chisel  a  good-sized  hole  in  her  garboard 
streak  and  give  it  about  twice  the  bore  of  the  bilge- 
pump. 

The  Esmerdda  had  an  unusually  good  pump, 
worked  by  a  couple  of  hand-spikes,  and  throwing  a 
five-inch  stream.  Matt  squared  the  circle  indus 
triously  and  then  doubled  the  result,  going  over  these 
calculations  again  and  again  to  make  sure  of  no  mis 
take.  What  he  aimed  to  accomplish  was  a  leak  that 
would  force  Schwartz  to  lay  the  vessel  toward  the 
nearest  land,  and  perhaps  bring  it  into  view  before 
there  would  be  any  need  to  take  refuge  in  the  whaler. 
On  a  two  to  one  ratio  of  leak  against  pump,  he  hoped 
the  Esmeralda  might  stay  afloat  for  ten  or  twelve 
hours  after  he  had  achieved  his  purpose. 

How  little  did  Schwartz  appreciate  what  was 
going  on  under  his  nose,  during  those  long  swelter 
ing  days  in  the  Doldrums,  or  later  when  they  picked 
up  the  South  East  Trades.  Matt  and  Chris,  snug 
gled  closely  in  any  strip  of  shade  they  could  find,  and 
to  all  appearance  as  busy  as  ever  with  their  mythical 
plantation !  They  were  for  ever  scribbling  on  sheets 
of  paper  and  considering  the  results.  There  were 
dummies  with  such  headings  as:  "Estimated  yield 
for  the  fourth  year.  Food  allowance  for  18  labor 
ers  at  37  cents  Chile  a  day.  Probable  profits  on  3 
acres  of  pineapples  (a)  First  season  (b)  second  sea 
son  (c)  third  season" — dummies  that  were  always 
very  much  in  evidence  when  Schwartz  or  Brandeis 

276 


DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW 

were  about.  But  the  dummies  were  a  blind  for 
other  and  more  secret  sheets  conveying  information 
of  such  supreme  importance  that  it  could  not  even  be 
whispered. 

There  is  not  a  spot  on  a  small  sailing  vessel,  un 
less  it  be  the  tip  of  the  jib-boom,  where  one  is  secure 
from  eavesdropping.  Matt  accordingly  took  no 
chances  on  this  score,  well  aware  that  a  single  wordi 
might  betray  them.  That  they  were  under  surveil-1 
lance  was  increasingly  borne  in  on  them.  Suspicion 
was  breeding  suspicion.  Hence  the  scribbling  that 
went  on  so  continuously  in  the  alleyway,  or  below 
in  their  cabin. 

"Did  you  manage  to  slip  into  the  trade-room?" 
Matt  asked  in  writing. 

"Yes — and  found  lots  of  tools." 
"Chisels?" 
"Yes— lots." 
"How  big?" 

"All  sizes — the  largest  about  two  inches  wide." 
"A  mallet?" 
"No." 

"Hammers?" 

"No.  But  there  was  a  case  marked  axes!' 
"Would  it  be  hard  to  open?" 
"I  think  it  would." 
"No  hatchets?" 
"Not  one." 

"Did  you  try  to  shift  the  hatch-cover?" 
277 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Could  not  budge  it,  but  you  could." 

"Were  the  chisels  heavy  ?" 

"Medium." 

"Any  augers  ?" 

"What's  an  auger?" 

"A  giant  gimlet." 

"No,  only  little  ones  with  a  turn-wiggle." 

"How  big  a  hole  could  the  biggest  make  ?" 

"Hardly  an  inch — no,  less." 

"Too  small — but  a  two-inch  chisel  can  be  driven 
through  anything." 

"But  what  about  the  copper  sheathing  you  were 
afraid  of?" 

"Drive  through  that,  too — the  trouble  will  be  to 
get  those  axes  out  without  a  noise." 

"Will  you  wait  till  the  time  comes,  or  choose  one 
of  those  slam-bang  calms?  I  used  to  think  a  calm 
was  a  calm  till  the  last  one  jounced  us  to  pieces." 

"Better  wait — make  one  job  of  it.  Don't  want 
S.  nosing  in  there  and  turning  things  over." 

"Have  you  any  idea  where  we  are  ?" 

"Across  the  Line — that's  all  I  know.  B.  has  the 
chart  locked  in  his  room." 

"How  can  you  tell,  then?" 

"Only  guess,  but  if  we  are  where  I  think  we  are, 
we  soon  can't  avoid  picking  up  an  island  or  two. 
Two  reasons  (i)  birds  to-day;  (2)  B.  went  aloft 
and  spent  an  hour  in  the  cross-trees  with  his  glass." 

"But  you  will  make  absolutely  certain  before  at 
tempting  anything?" 

278 


DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW 

"It  will  take  a  row  of  palm-trees  to  nerve  me  up 
to  it!  But  we'll  soon  be  seeing  them,  and  then- — !" 

Courage  and  daylight  go  together.  It  is  at  night 
that  the  spirit  shrinks;  that  the  spine  feels  icy 
shivers ;  that  the  coward  in  all  of  us  draws  the  bed 
clothes  over  his  craven  head.  At  night  Matt  and 
Chris  were  hardly  able  to  keep  their  resolution  alive. 
To  send  their  bed,  their  home,  their  whole  little 
world  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  horrified  their  imag 
ination.  The  lisp  and  gurgle  of  the  water  outside 
gave  a  dread  reality  to  the  mental  picture.  It  was 
the  voice  of  death  that  rippled  along  the  schooner's 
keel,  that  swirled  in  her  wake,  that  foamed  and 
splashed  on  the  billowing  crests,  death,  not  the  width 
of  a  hand  away,  cradling  them  in  that  fragile 
shell  which  they  were  mad  enough  to  dream  of 
destroying. 

Had  it  not  been  for  that  other  sound,  never  still 
in  the  deadest  of  the  early  hours,  they  might  have 
abandoned  their  plan  of  sinking  the  Esmeralda.  But 
the  wireless  had  its  own  note  of  menace  and  was  a 
perpetual  reminder  of  dangers  as  real,  as  mysterious 
and  terrible  as  any  to  be  feared  from  the  dark  depths 
beneath  them.  When  the  wireless  began  to  snap  and 
hum  they  were  heartened  to  a  fresh  determination 
to  strike  first,  cost  what  it  might.  There  was  be 
sides,  in  both  those  stubborn  natures,  a  hatred  of 
confessing  themselves  beaten.  To  turn  the  tables 
on  Schwartz  and  Brandeis  thrilled  them  with  a 

279 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

grim  delight.  Chris'  hot  little  heart  burned  no  less 
eagerly  for  revenge  than  Matt's.  They  had  been 
fooled,  lied  to,  successfully  victimized  and  carried 
away,  but— 
They  were  twenty- four  days  out  of  San  Francisco 
when  the  first  land  rose  over  the  horizon.  The  ab 
sence  of  clouds  above  it  proved  it  to  be  one  of  those 
coral  atolls  that  abound  in  the  Southern  Ocean.  To 
the  eye  it  was  a  long,  low  blur,  scarcely  more  than 
discernible  on  the  rim  of  the  sky ;  to  the  glass  palms 
were  visible,  and  the  lake-like  water  of  a  lagoon 
whose  farther  confines  were  lost  in  the  dip  of  the 
earth.  The  fact  that  they  were  at  last  in  the  zone  of 
reefs  and  islands  filled  Matt  and  Chris  with  an  over 
mastering  excitement  which  the  captain  probably 
ascribed  to  the  interest  that  always  attends  a  land 
fall  after  a  prolonged  spell  at  sea.  He  was  very 
much  interested  himself,  as  indeed  was  everybody — 
lending  his  binoculars  willingly,  exclaiming  at  the 
beauty  of  the  shimmering,  sapphire  tints,  and  an 
noying  Mr.  Brandeis  with  his  incessant  questions. 

To  Matt  the  sight  of  the  island  was  like  a  signal ; 
it  made  him  acutely  restless  and  uncomfortable; 
he  was  possessed  with  the  suffocating  sense  of 
almost  terror  that  precedes  all  desperate  deeds. 
Taking  advantage  of  the  commotion  on  deck, 
he  ran  below,  watched  his  opportunity,  and  entered 
the  trade-room.  No  cracksman,  on  his  knees  be 
fore  a  safe,  and  thrillingly  conscious  that  at  any 
moment  he  might  be  interrupted,  could  have 

280 


DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW 

experienced  more  trepidation  than  did  Matt  as  he 
sought  out  the  case  of  axes  and  pried  open  the  lid. 
He  seized  one  and  laid  it  aside,  shoved  back  the 
case,  and  hastily  covered  it  with  the  first  things 
handy — some  bolts  of  canvas  and  a  couple  of  drums 
of  niggerhead  tobacco.  Then,  with  a  panicky  glance 
at  the  door,  which  had  no  key  in  the  lock  nor  any 
bolt,  he  went  down  on  his  knees  before  the  hatch 
and  fumbled  with  the  ring  countersunk  in  the  plank 
ing. 

He  raised  the  cover  with  no  great  difficulty,  and 
lifting  it  clear,  stared  into  the  depths.  What  he 
had  feared  most  of  all  was  that  the  after-hold 
might  be  filled  with  cargo.  But  as  his  eyes  grew 
accustomed  to  the  semi-darkness  he  saw  nothing 
save  a  void,  with  a  glimmer  of  pigs  of  iron-ballast, 
some  metallically  bright  and  others  red  with  rust, 
showing  dimly  beneath.  He  breathed  a  sigh  of  re 
lief;  there  was  no  cargo,  no  packed  array  of  cases, 
crates  and  bales  to  thwart  him. 

He  had  had  no  intention  of  doing  more  than  this 
— to  make  sure  of  his  ax  and  to  get  some  under 
standing  of  the  problem  that  might  confront  him. 
He  had  not  even  told  Chris,  but  darted  below  on  an 
impulse,  seizing  an  opportunity  that  might  not  oc 
cur  again.  Suddenly  it  came  over  him  that  the 
projected  delay  till  night  was  a  mistake.  Here  it 
was  about  two  o'clock,  with  four  hours  yet  to  sup 
per.  The  tramp  of  feet  overhead,  the  voices,  the 
exclamations — all  showed  that  the  island  was  the 

281 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

only  thought  of  those  on  deck.  There  never  could 
be  a  better  time,  never,  never.  But  where  were  the 
chisels  Chris  had  spoken  of  ?  He  rummaged  about 
feverishly,  searching  for  them — always  with  one 
eye  on  the  door.  What  if  she  had  hidden  them? 
Could  he  dare  go  out  and  ask  her — warn  her?  She 
must  have  missed  him  by  now  and  was  doubtless  in 
an  agony  of  suspense.  But  he  did  not  dare ;  it  was 
not  in  flesh  and  blood  to  incur  the  risk ;  he  knew  how 
certainly  his  face  would  betray  him. 

Oh,  those  chisels !  What  a  fool  he  had  been  not 
to  learn  from  Chris  where  they  were.  The  whole 
thing  might  fail  for  that — fail  through  his  stupidity. 
This  was  the  time — now,  now,  now!  He  sought 
them  like  a  maniac,  spilling  bolts  of  cotton,  over 
turning  boxes  and  packages.  Perhaps  under  the 
counter?  Good  God,  what  was  that  lumpy  object 
his  fingers  were  closing  on  ?  A  wrench !  Then  an 
other  wrench,  the  prickle  of  a  file,  a  draw-knife, 
yes,  a  chisel — dozens  of  chisels,  flung  in  pell-mell 
with  the  rest  of  the  tools,  and  sparsely  wrapped  like 
them  in  coarse  paper.  He  pulled  the  chisels  out  on 
the  floor,  gloating  over  them,  always  with  his  eyes 
on  the  door,  always  hearing  the  feet  above,  the 
voices,  the  confused  movement  that  kept  the  ceiling 
creaking. 

But  how  to  descend,  or  rather,  once  down,  how 
was  he  ever  to  scramble  out?  The  hold  was  about 
nine  or  ten  feet  deep;  he  peered  in  again,  gauging 
it.  Rope?  There  was  rope  everywhere,  compactly 

282 


DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW 

coiled  and  burlapped.  It  would  be  quite  a  bother, 
though,  to  cut  the  fastenings;  new  rope  also  was 
sure  to  kink — to  tangle  and  twist  itself  into  snarls. 
Why  not  a  bolt  of  that  stout  red  cotton?  It  would 
be  just  as  efficacious — more  efficacious — limper. 
Yes,  the  stout  red  cotton  by  all  means.  It  was 
twenty-two  or  twenty-four  inches  wide,  and  could 
easily  bear  the  weight  of  a  man.  Matt  made  the 
loose  end  fast  to  a  keg  of  nails  and  tossed  the  bolt 
itself  down  the  hatchway;  lowered  the  ax  after  it 
on  a  piece  of  twine;  also  a  key-saw  and  a  pair  of 
chisels  on  another  piece  of  twine. 

What  a  pity  Chris  did  not  know!  What  a  pity 
she  was  not  on  guard  in  the  doorway  of  their  cabin 
opposite!  But  perhaps  she  was  there — she  was  so 
quick,  so  resourceful.  Oh,  if  that  wretched  Fusi 
were  to  blunder  in  for  a  case  of  canned  stuff  or  one 
of  those  hams;  see  the  open  hatch,  and — !  But  the 
lazarette  was  his  usual  storehouse;  the  trade-room 
was  seldom  entered.  Yet  if  Chris  had  been  on 
guard  his  heart  would  have  thumped  less  violently; 
she  would  have  allowed  nobody  to  get  past  her;  it 
made  him  savage  to  think  he  was  engaging  in  this 
alone. 

Well,  there  was  no  help  for  it;  it  was  now  or 
never.  Crushing  the  cotton  in  his  hands  he  swung 
over  the  opening  and  let  himself  go.  His  feet 
touched  the  iron  bars ;  all  about  him  it  was  as  black 
as  pitch  except  under  the  twilight  of  the  hatch.  The 
air  was  stale  and  stifling,  and  reeked  of  bilge  water. 

283 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

It  was  a  dim,  foul  cavern,  littered  with  the  mil 
dewed  remnants  of  former  cargoes — decaying  sacks, 
odds  and  ends  of  dunnage,  greasy  filth  that  had  once 
been  coprah.  His  first  step  dislodged  a  rat,  which 
fled  squeaking,  rousing  a  horde  of  others  that 
squeaked,  too,  and  scurried  in  every  direction. 

Gathering  his  tools  together  he  deliberated  as  to 
the  place  he  should  choose.  It  mattered  very  little 
where,  so  long  as  he  had  enough  light  to  see  by — 
so  long  as  it  was  not  too  high.  Brandeis  was  a 
quick-witted  fellow  and  a  thorough  seaman,  the 
kind  of  man  to  be  rushing  down  with  sheet-lead 
and  ideas.  The  lower  the  better  then,  in  order  that 
every  drop  might  count.  Here  was  as  good  a  place 
as  any,  here  at  the  turn  of  the  knees.  The  inner 
skin  had  to  come  off  first,  of  course,  but  that  would 
be  easy.  One-inch  boards,  probably;  at  the  most, 
one  and  a  half,  sheathing  the  hold  and  protecting 
the  thicker  sides  of  the  ship. 

Matt  got  vigorously  to  work,  ripping  off  a  big 
patch  of  the  inner  skin  and  laying  open  beyond  the 
real  object  of  attack.  The  next  step  required  more 
delicate  methods — more  care  and  skill.  One  fissure, 
however  small,  in  the  outer  planking  might  admit 
so  fierce  a  gush  of  water  that  the  task  would  have  to 
be  re-begun  elsewhere  with  all  its  attendant  delay. 
But  there  was  no  time  for  delay — not  an  instant. 
Above  him  was  the  unlocked  door — the  open  hatch 
« — urging  him  to  feverish  haste. 

He  marked  a  good-sized  square  on  the  planking, 
284 


DANGER  ABOVE  AND  BELOW 

mindful  that  the  copper  outside  would  help  to  check 
the  inflow,  and  set  to  paring  the  wood  away  as 
evenly  as  he  could  with  the  chisel.  It  was  Oregon 
pine,  and  came  off  in  bright,  clean  shavings,  sticky 
with  gum.  He  dug  deeper  and  deeper;  the  square 
sank  into  the  yellow  timber;  he  was  as  assiduous 
as  ever,  though  the  effort  became  harder  to  keep  the 
surface  flat  and  uniform.  He  was  dripping  with 
sweat ;  the  ax  was  heavy  and  extremely  awkward  to 
hold,  cramping  his  right  hand  and  annoying  him 
with  its  cumbersome  handle.  But  he  persevered, 
regardless  of  difficulties,  regardless  of  his  aching 
back  and  tortured  muscles — of  the  stinging,  blind 
ing  sweat ;  paring,  paring,  paring  at  the  yellow  wood 
till  it  grew  damp  to  the  touch,  till  it  oozed  and 
trickled,  till  it  hissed  with  tiny  streams  that  squirted 
into  his  face. 

Dropping  the  chisel,  he  ran  his  hand  down  the 
ax-handle,  gripped,  and  aiming  the  blunt  end  of  the 
ax  at  the  aperture  let  fly  with  all  his  strength. 

There  was  a  flash  of  greenish  water,  a  stupefying 
roar,  a  blow  in  his  chest  that  hurled  him  sprawling 
backwards,  drenched,  confused,  almost  senseless. 
Even  at  that  depth  the  water  was  under  a  colossal 
pressure;  it  was  as  though  a  geyser  had  opened  in 
the  ship's  side ;  the  stream  ran  solid  for  six  or  seven 
feet,  curved,  and  burst.  Matt  staggered  up  and 
regarded  it  with  awe,  dizzily,  trying  to  collect  his 
bewildered  senses.  Good  God,  how  would  the  pumps 
ever  cope  with  it!  The  whole  ocean  was  pouring 

285 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

in ;  it  did  not  seem  she  could  last  an  hour.  He  ought 
to  have  been  pleased,  but  the  sight  was  too  daunt 
ing,  too  terrible.  He  had  to  choke  back  the  instinct 
to  cry  for  help,  to  scramble  on  deck,  shouting  the 
alarm  as  he  went.  It  was  in  a  sort  of  horror  that 
he  stood  there  and  did  nothing — that  he  watched  the 
green,  transparent  serpent  striking  at  their  lives. 

By  degrees  he  recovered  some  composure;  col 
lected  the  tools  and  flung  them  into  the  blackest  re 
cesses  of  the  hold  so  that  they  might  not  rise  in  judg 
ment  against  him — for  he  knew  the  short  shrift  he 
would  get  were  the  act  brought  home  to  him. — He 
drew  himself  up  the  hatch,  caught  the  coaming,  and 
with  a  sailor's  alertness  sprang  out  on  the  trade- 
room  floor,  where,  trailing  water  like  a  spaniel,  he 
hurriedly  closed  the  cover,  stamping  it  into  place 
with  his  feet.  Then  with  unspeakable  relief,  he 
went  to  the  door,  listened,  opened  it  a  few  inches, 
and  peeped  cautiously  into  the  passageway. 

He  looked  straight  into  Chris'  eyes.  She  was  in 
their  cabin,  leaning  against  the  bunks,  and  cloaking 
with  the  book  in  her  hand  the  duty  she  must  have  as 
sumed  of  protecting  him  from  interference.  She 
started  and  turned  pale  as  she  beheld  him,  stifling 
an  exclamation,  and  signaling  him  to  hurry  across. 
He  did  so  at  a  bound,  closing  the  cabin  door  behind 
him,  putting  his  back  to  it  like  a  hunted  man. 

"Get  me  some  dry  clothes  quick,"  he  panted. 
"The  schooner's  done  for — I've  put  a  hole  in  her  you 
could  shove  your  two  fists  through !" 

286 


CHAPTER  XXII 

BRANDEIS  VS.  THE  PACIFIC  OCEAN 

THE  leak  was  not  reported  till  supper-time,  when 
Krantz  broke  in  on  the  party  like  a  whirlwind. 
To  Matt  it  was  a  reprieve  at  the  gallows'  foot,  for 
he  could  feel  how  sluggishly  the  little  vessel  rose  to 
the  swell,  and  how  she  labored  with  the  increasing 
weight  of  water  in  her  hold.  The  uproar  that  en 
sued  was  as  welcome  to  him  as  it  was  dismaying  to 
the  galvanized  mate  and  to  the  pallid,  stuttering 
Schwartz.  Brandeis  was  on  deck  in  a  moment, 
bawling  orders  in  a  voice  like  a  bull ;  Schwartz  be 
hind  him,  as  white  as  a  corpse;  Krantz  next,  his 
whiskers  flying,  and  his  heavy  tread  resounding  as 
he  stumbled  forward  to  call  all  hands. 

Chris  and  Matt  remained  out  of  harm's  way  with 
their  half -finished  supper  before  them,  whispering 
in  undertones  and  following  as  best  they  could  all 
that  was  taking  place  on  deck.  No  criminals  ever 
gazed  at  each  other  more  guiltily.  The  fat  was  now 
in  the  fire  with  a  vengeance.  Everything  hung  on 
Brandeis'  decision,  and  they  waited  for  it  with  their 
hearts  in  their  mouths.  His  first  order  was  to  put 
the  ship  on  the  wind,  and  heel  her  over  on  the  port 
tack. 

287 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"That's  to  see  if  he  can't  raise  the  leak  out  of 
water,"  said  Matt  "Good  for  Brandeis,  though  he 
will  find  it  won't  help  much !"  With  the  aid  of  a 
dish  of  sliced  beets  he  explained  the  manceuver  to 
Chris,  so  that  she  was  not  at  all  astonished  when  the 
mate  reversed  his  tactics,  went  about,  and  put  the 
Esmerdda  over  on  the  starboard  tack.  "A  good 
seaman,  that  fellow,"  Matt  commented  approvingly. 
"Only  the  trouble  isn't  where  he  hopes  it  is."  Then 
the  pump  began  to  clank  and  the  sheets  were  eased 
as  the  vessel  seemed  to  be  laid  again  on  her  original 
course.  "Back  where  we  started,"  said  Matt. 

On  deck,  in  the  glow  of  a  fiery  sunset,  they  found 
everything  in  confusion — a  wild  scene,  tinged  like 
a  picture  with  the  crimsoning  west.  Naked  to  the 
waist,  a  couple  of  men  were  working  the  handspikes 
of  the  pump,  which  was  hoarsely  flooding  the  scup 
pers.  The  canvas  covers  had  been  cut  from  the 
whale-boat,  and  beside  it,  in  a  little  heap,  Yonida 
and  Fusi  were  stacking  provisions,  and  with  a  tin 
saucepan  were  filling  a  pair  of  breakers  from  the 
water-butt.  The  main-hatch  was  open,  gaping  to 
the  sky,  and  within  its  depths  could  be  heard  a 
wicked,  gurgling  sound,  swishing  to  and  fro  with 
the  roll  of  the  ship.  At  the  break  of  the  poop,  and 
showing  that  Brandeis  had  at  last  discovered  the 
source  of  danger,  was  the  mate  himself,  vocifer 
ously  directing  the  efforts  to  draw  a  trysail  over  the 
leak  and  up  on  the  opposite  side. 

A  bellowing  command  brought  Matt  to  the  task, 
288 


BRANDEIS  VS.  THE  PACIFIC  OCEAN 

and  a  second  later  he  was  striving  with  the  rest,  and 
as  energetically  busy  to  accomplish  the  impossible; 
for  he  knew  the  hole  was  too  near  the  keelson  to  be 
likely  to  suck — he  had  cut  it  there  for  that  very  rea 
son — but  he  worked  with  a  will,  nevertheless,  glad  to 
elude  suspicion  by  an  appearance  of  zeal,  and  glad 
der  still  at  the  murmurs  about  him,  which,  although 
in  German,  plainly  implied  hopelessness  and  failure. 

Brandeis'  repeated  examinations  of  the  hold, 
from  which  he  emerged  like  a  drowned  rat,  ap 
peared  to  show  that  the  water  was  gaining  on  them ; 
though  Matt  was  not  half  as  sure  that  the  confound 
ed  trysail  was  not  checking  the  leak  to  some  degree. 
After  an  hour  of  fiddle-faddling  with  it,  the  ends 
were  lashed  fast  and  attention  was  diverted  to  rig 
ging  a  block  and  tackle  over  the  hatch  and  attach 
ing  a  barrel  that  could  be  lowered,  tilted,  hoisted 
out  full,  and  spilled  over  the  lee-bulwarks  like  a 
giant  baler — a  laborious  operation,  and,  to  Matt's 
idea,  clumsy  and  ineffectual.  Relays  were  appointed 
both  for  this  and  the  pump,  and  a  back-breaking 
routine  was  inaugurated  that  continued  without  in 
termission  as  the  night  advanced. 

Matt  snatched  an  opportunity  to  tell  Chris  to  keep 
a  sharp  watch  on  the  binnacle  compass.  The  Es- 
meralda's  course  was  W.  S.  W.,  and  he  asked  her  to 
warn  him  in  case  it  were  altered  by  even  a  point. 
To  have  it  altered  was  his  one  consuming  desire,  for 
it  meant  the  culmination  of  his  plan,  and  the  short 
ening  of  those  dreaded  hours  in  the  whaler.  Were 

289 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

the  schooner  laid  for  the  nearest  land  she  might  be 
kept  afloat  to  reach  it,  sparing  them  an  ordeal  Matt 
had  experienced  before. 

All  that  night  as  he  bent  at  the  hand-spikes,  or 
pulled  on  that  hellish  tackle,  or  dropped  utterly 
spent  as  the  other  shift  replaced  the  one  to  which  he 
belonged,  he  was  unrewarded  by  the  news  that 
would  have  consoled  him  for  all  his  suffering. 
Though  the  ship  seemed  heavier  than  before,  and 
the  darkening  faces  of  the  crew  showed  how  the 
unequal  battle  was  going  against  them,  she  was  not 
allowed  to  swerve  an  inch  from  her  prescribed 
course.  Half  sinking  as  she  was,  Brandeis  kept  her 
at  it,  with  no  weakening  of  his  resolve  to  drown 
her  under  rather  than  turn  aside.  Schwartz  was  of 
less  heroic  stuff;  he  pleaded,  he  argued,  he  wept — 
beat  the  air  and  stamped  in  a  frenzy  of  expostula 
tion.  If  anything  were  needed  to  show  who  was 
the  real  master  aboard,  it  was  this  conflict  of  the 
ostensible  captain  with  a  mate  who  roughly  ordered 
him  back  to  work. 

At  midnight,  after  another  stormy  altercation  be 
tween  the  two,  Schwartz  seemed  to  win  a  grudging 
consent  to  get  the  wireless  into  operation.  A  slender, 
pointed  steel  pole  was  run  aloft;  Herman  installed 
his  apparatus  at  the  foot  of  the  foremast,  and  with 
no  pretensions  of  secrecy,  and  as  oblivious  of  Matt 
as  he  was  of  the  rest  of  the  crew,  calmly  harnessed 
himself  to  the  wires.  The  increasing  enmity  between 
Brandeis  and  Schwartz  grew  to  a  white  heat  as  both 

290 


BRANDEIS  VS.  THE  PACIFIC  OCEAN 

struggled  to  dictate  the  first  message.  There  was 
another  fierce  dispute  of  which  Matt  never  knew 
the  outcome,  for  he  was  called  aft  to  take  his 
twenty-minute  spell  at  the  pump;  but  it  must  have 
gone  in  the  mate's  favor,  for  the  main-boom  re 
mained  guyed  out  and  there  was  no  change  in  the 
Esmeralda's  course. 

Thus  the  night  passed,  and  by  morning  it  was 
plain  the  ship  was  doomed.  She  was  submerged 
to  the  channels,  and  had  a  sickening,  undecided 
movement  as  she  sank  in  the  trough  of  the 
sea.  The  men  looked  at  one  another,  wondering 
each  time  if  she  would  ever  rise  again,  or  simply 
founder  then  and  there  and  go  down  like  a  stone. 
Brandeis  had  the  whaler  cleared,  provisioned  and 
lowered,  and  ordering  Chris  into  it,  as  well  as  one 
of  the  hands,  caused  the  boat  to  be  towed  in  the 
schooner's  wake.  It  was  a  tragic  parting  for  hus 
band  and  wife,  and  took  place  with  a  suddenness 
for  which  they  were  utterly  unprepared.  Matt,  sod 
den  with  fatigue  and  so  worn  out  that  he  could 
scarcely  stand,  was  thankful  to  see  Chris  safe, 
though  he  wondered  whether  they  might  ever  meet 
again  on  this  side  of  eternity.  On  his  spell  off  he 
would  wave  his  hand  to  her,  and  after  she  had 
waved  back  he  would  collapse  like  a  dead  man  until 
roused  by  the  relentless  mate. 

The  acquiescence  of  the  crew  filled  him  with 
amazement  and  a  bitter,  mounting  anger.  He  tried  to 
instil  into  them  something  of  his  own  fury;  pointed 

291 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  made  signs  at  the  boat ;  urged  them  to  mutiny, 
to  get  away  before  the  ship  sank  under  them.  But 
they  listened  unmoved,  though  not  without  a 
strained,  hungry  expression.  Life  is  sweet,  and 
there  it  was  towing  a  hundred  feet  behind  them, 
while  Brandeis  with  no  weapon  but  his  strident 
voice  held  them  to  a  coffin.  Their  obedience  was  in 
deed  surprising;  no  seaman  Matt  had  ever  known 
could  have  been  so  patient ;  he  shook  his  fist  in  their 
faces. 

Neither  of  the  Japanese  could  be  spared  to  make 
breakfast,  but  some  cans  of  meat  were  opened  and 
biscuits  served  out,  as  well  as  a  niggardly  allowance 
of  schnapps.  It  put  fresh  heart  in  the  jaded  spec 
ters  as  they  lay  half-naked  about  the  deck,  wolfing 
the  food  and  almost  fighting  for  the  liquor.  It  pro 
voked,  too,  the  first  outbreak  against  Brandeis; 
muttered  growling  and  complaining  suddenly  flamed 
up,  and  was  not  extinguished  until  a  second  round 
of  schnapps  was  reluctantly  doled  out.  But  with 
that  they  seemed  appeased,  and  went  back  to  work 
with  the  same  doggedness  they  had  shown  through 
out.  Matt,  who  had  thought  the  men  were  at  last 
asserting  themselves,  was  cruelly  disappointed. 
Even  Schwartz,  the  most  vehement  of  them,  slunk 
along  with  the  rest  and  submitted  like  a  lamb  to  the 
hectoring,  driving  mate. 

By  nine  o'clock  land  was  sighted  on  the  port  bow, 
but  it  caused  no  relaxation  of  the  killing  routine, 
nor  any  change  in  the  ship's  course.  Matt  watched 

292 


BRANDEIS  VS.  THE  PACIFIC  OCEAN 

it  with  an  exasperation  not  to  be  described.  Over 
there  was  safety;  over  there,  not  fifteen  miles  away, 
was  the  end  of  all  their  troubles-^-white  beaches, 
palms,  people,  law,  security.  Yet  they  must  stick 
like  flies  on  a  sieve  at  the  behest  of  that  infernal 
Brandeis.  Matt  was  beside  himself;  he  raved  and 
swore;  had  he  been  alone — had  he  not  been  with 
held  by  the  thought  of  Chris — he  would  have  got  his 
revolver  and  brought  the  thing  to  a  head. 

But  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  him,  though  if 
he  had  fallen  behind  or  shirked  he  knew  he  would 
have  fared  badly.  So  he  kept  at  it  till  his  arms 
seemed  wrenched  from  their  sockets,  till  his  heart 
was  ready  to  burst — in  a  blind,  dizzy  agony  to  hold 
his  own  with  his  companions.  At  intervals  the  wire 
less  clicked  and  buzzed;  at  once,  at  some  message 
it  caught  from  space,  there  was  much  congratulation 
and  handshaking,  and  even  a  thin  cheer. 

The  ship  was  settling  fast;  at  every  lurch  Matt 
expected  her  to  founder;  she  sickened  in  the  depths 
of  the  swell,  quivered,  and  threatened  to  rise  no 
more.  Never  was  there  a  gladder  sound  than  Bran 
deis'  order  to  leave  her  before  she  left  them. 

The  whaler  was  drawn  up  to  her  quarter,  and  a 
hurried  descent  made  into  her,  the  first  comers  seiz 
ing  the  oars  and  preparing  to  back  away,  in  case 
the  Esrncralda  suddenly  went  down.  It  was  very 
coolly  done,  without  panic  or  disorder;  and  they 
pulled  clear  of  the  sinking  ship  with  deliberate 
strokes,  Brandeis  at  the  helm  nonchalantly  smoking 

293  , 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

a  cigar.  Matt  had  been  allotted  a  place  beside  Chris 
in  the  stern,  and  though  they  greeted  each  other 
quietly  and  tried  to  smile,  it  was  to  conceal  an  emo 
tion  so  overwhelming,  so  holy  in  its  tenderness, 
relief  and  joy,  that  it  was  as  if  they  had  emerged 
from  death  together  and  had  met  again  beyond  the 
grave. 

Instead  of  making  sail  and  setting  a  course,  Bran- 
deis  unshipped  his  tiller  and  allowed  the  boat  to  bob 
as  she  pleased,  while  a  box  of  Havanas  was  passed 
along  from  man  to  man,  and  Yonida,  amidst  hila 
rious  acclamations,  opened  bottle  after  bottle  of 
champagne.  Such  a  jollification  in  mid-ocean 
seemed  the  act  of  lunatics.  Some  refreshment  might 
have  been  advisable,  but  here  was  every  one  getting 
cheerfully  tipsy,  with  champagne  of  all  things,  and 
grabbing  at  the  bottles  like  people  at  a  ball-supper! 
The  Trades  had  been  freshening  for  the  last  few 
days,  and  the  most  elementary  prudence  dictated 
that  not  a  minute  should  be  lost  in  determining  the 
bearings  of  the  nearest  land,  and  striving  to  reach 
it  while  the  weather  was  good.  Yet  the  popping  of 
corks  continued  unabated;  the  glasses  fizzled  and 
foamed;  and  they  might  all  have  been  in  Sydney 
Harbor  for  any  thought  that  was  given  to  their  real 
situation. 

Matt  drank  his  share,  however,  and  puffed  at  his 
cigar  with  a  heavenly  enjoyment  that  did  not  pre 
vent  him  from  being  also  very  perplexed  and  anx 
ious.  Why  did  they  drift  there  and  do  nothing? 

294 


BRANDEIS  VS.  THE  PACIFIC  OCEAN 

How  could  they  be  so  inconceivably  reckless?  His 
fingers  itched  for  the  chart  that  bulged  in  Brandeis' 
jumper.  He  longed  for  the  command  to  step  the 
mast.  The  mate  half  stood  up  in  the  stern-sheets 
as  though  at  last  to  give  it,  but  instead  of  an  order 
it  was  a  shout,  with  his  hand  pointing  joyfully  to 
leeward.  There  was  an  instant  commotion,  uproar 
and  cheers — embracings  and  outcries.  Some  would 
have  risen,  too,  but  they  were  roundly  ordered 
down.  All  faces  were  turned  with  the  mate's  to 
leeward,  the  boat  rocking  until  it  slopped  the  gun 
wales  under  with  the  twisting  and  turning  of  so 
many  men.  Smoke  on  the  lee  horizon !  A  steamer's 
smoke,  dimming  the  azure  with  a  tiny  stain ! 


295 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

JOHN  MORT 

SHE  was  apparently  coming  up  at  great  speed; 
the  smoke  swelled  in  volume;  soon  no  longer  a 
stain  but  a  cloud,  billowing  low  and  black  against 
the  sky.  The  excitement  on  the  whaler  grew  in 
tense  as  a  spidery  mast  could  be  detected  through 
the  murk;  then  a  glint  of  stack,  and  a  gleam 
of  white  that  might  be  awnings  or  hull.  At  in 
tervals  the  whaler  dipped  in  the  hollow  of  the 
swell,  and  a  green  mountain  hid  their  view,  but  as 
she  was  borne  up  again  on  the  crest  the  swiftly  ap 
proaching  steamer  was  ever  seen  more  clearly.  She 
loomed  up  bigger  and  bigger;  two  smoke-stacks  be 
came  discernible ;  no,  there  were  three !  By  George, 
there  were  four,  in  a  towering,  stupendous,  black- 
vomiting,  line — a  giant  of  a  vessel,  with  fight 
ing  tops  to  her  squat  masts,  and  turrets,  spon- 
sons  and  guns  showing  above  the  glistening  white 
of  her  bow.  A  man-of-war?  What  else  could  she 
be  except  one  of  that  superb  type,  designed  to  out 
distance  nine-tenths  of  the  armed  ships  afloat,  or 
turn,  if  she  wished,  a  volcano  of  destruction;  a  co 
lossus  of  twelve  or  fourteen  thousand  tons,  able  at 
reduced  speed  to  encircle  the  globe,  and  return 

296 


JOHN  MORT 

whence  she  had  started  with  coal  still  to  spare  in  her 
Brobdingnagian  bunkers. 

Matt  watched  her  with  parted  lips,  and  straining, 
fascinated  eyes.  Was  it  she,  then,  who  had  called 
up  the  Esmeralda  night  after  night?  Was  this  an 
ocean  rendezvous,  and  the  explanation  of  Brandeis' 
singular  backwardness  to  lay  the  whaler  on  a 
course  ?  Was  this  the  reason  of  the  cheers,  the  ela 
tion  displayed  on  every  side,  the  absence  of  any  at 
tempt  to  signal  or  to  make  their  distress  known? 
It  was  no  chance  meeting  assuredly,  but  a  prear 
ranged  tryst  in  the  waste  of  the  limitless  sea.  The 
thought,  the  growing  conviction — were  not  without 
alarm;  but  how  could  any  private  individual  own 
such  a  leviathan?  Why,  many  a  government  of  im 
portance  had  not  the  peer  of  this  magnificent  vessel 
that  was  racing  toward  them  under  forced  draught, 
and  with  all  the  power  of  her  mighty  engines. 

As  she  drew  nearer,  sparkling  with  white  and 
steel,  she  offered  a  spectacle  that  stirred  the  heart. 
The  water  flashed  at  her  stem  as  she  cut  it  asunder 
and  tossed  it  aside  in  a  rainbow  spray;  her  decks 
rose,  tier  upon  tier,  alive  with  men;  her  long, 
slender  guns,  protruding  from  the  ports,  were 
backed  with  human  faces;  on  the  lofty  bridge  were 
two  officers  in  uniform,  the  one  standing  motionless 
beside  the  steersman,  the  other  pacing  to  and  fro, 
occasionally  stopping  to  use  his  glass. 

Suddenly  the  throb  of  her  engines  ceased,  and  she 
was  gliding  toward  the  whale-boat  under  no  other 

297 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

impetus  but  her  vast  bulk.  Shrill  whistles  sounded ; 
white-clothed  sailors  were  seen  running;  and,  as 
though  by  magic,  the  starboard  gangway  was  low 
ered,  its  base  churning  the  water,  or  rising  high 
above  it  as  the  ship  rolled  in  the  seaway.  At  this 
Brandeis  ordered  his  men  to  their  oars,  and,  hugging 
his  tiller  and  swaying  with  every  stroke,  headed  the 
whaler  for  the  man-of-war's  quarter.  It  might  have 
been  one  of  her  own  boats  from  the  swing  and  pre 
cision  with  which  it  was  brought  alongside,  the  men 
elevating  their  oars  in  unison  at  the  word  of  com 
mand,  and  old  Krantz  in  the  bow,  smartly  ready 
with  his  boat-hook.  A  couple  of  seamen  jumped 
out  and,  oblivious  of  the  water  that  sometimes 
drenched  them  to  the  waist,  assisted  Brandeis, 
Schwartz,  Chris  and  Matt  to  escape  a  similar  wet 
ting  and  reach  the  security  of  the  upper  steps. 

At  the  head  of  the  gangway,  as  the  boat  was  cast 
off  and  all  the  survivors  of  the  schooner  crowded 
up,  they  were  met  by  a  burly  officer,  who  grinned 
affably,  and  shook  each  one  of  them  by  the  hand. 
As  Matt  and  Chris  passed  to  the  quarter-deck  be 
yond,  the  former  raised  his  cap  to  a  group  of  offi 
cers,  who  returned  the  salute  with  naval  stiffness. 
It  was  a  moment  of  some  embarrassment — to  stand 
there  with  no  home  under  the  sun  save  that  strange 
deck,  and  to  know  they  were  dependent  on  the  char 
ity  of  those  disdainful  observers  who  gave  no  sign 
of  welcoming  them. 

But  an  instant  later  they  were  accosted  by  a 
298 


JOHN  MORT 

young  man,  also  in  uniform,  who,  advancing  hur 
riedly,  bowed  and,  in  broken  English,  said:  "Beg 
pardon,  instructed  by  captain,  follow  me,  please  be 
so  kind."  On  trying  to  make  friends  with  the  young 
man  as  he  led  them  toward  the  companion,  he  re 
marked  with  faultless  politeness:  "Instructed  by 
captain,  no  communication  is  possible,  please  be  so 
kind." 

Guiding  them  down  the  stairway  to  the  deck  be 
neath  he  led  them  along  a  passageway  to  a  cabin, 
into  which  he  ushered  them  with  this  concluding 
statement :  "Instructed  by  captain,  you  are  here  to 
remain,  please  be  so  kind."  With  that  he  saluted, 
clicked  his  heels  with  Teutonic  formality,  and  de 
parted — presumably  "instructed  by  captain"  to 
report  their  incarceration. 

It  was  without  doubt  an  officer's  cabin,  and  was 
prettily  decorated  with  photographs,  fans,  shells, 
cotillion  favors  and  other  trifling  mementos  with 
which  a  man  surrounds  himself  when  he  makes  the 
sea  his  profession  and  lives  the  life  of  a  wanderer. 
The  inevitable  mother,  and  the  inevitable  wife  or 
sweetheart,  were  in  specially  embellished  frames, 
holding  the  place  of  honor  among  the  silver-backed 
toilet  articles  and  what  not  on  the  mahogany  chest 
of  drawers.  It  was  a  very  reassuring  little  cabin, 
breathing  of  affection,  and  simple,  honest,  manly 
tastes ;  and  the  pair,  thus  oddly  imprisoned  in  it,  felt 
a  lessening  of  their  tremors,  and  laughed  at  the  sight 
of  themselves  in  the  glass. 

299 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"They  ought  to  be  afraid  of  us,"  exclaimed  Chris, 
with  saucy  confidence,  twining  her  arms  about 
Matt's  neck  and  studying  the  effect.  "I  look  like 
the  widow  of  an  organ-grinder  on  the  bread-line; 
and  by  the  time  I've  combed  your  hair  a  bit,  you 
might  pass  as  a  Siberian  exile  who  had  escaped  in  a 
garbage  can !" 

It  may  seem  incredible  that  they  could  be  so  gay, 
and  find  amusement  in  a  situation  fraught  with  un 
known  perils;  but  when  you  have  faced  death  and 
held  it  for  hours  at  bay,  the  reaction  is  intoxicating ; 
and  to  realize  you  are  actually  alive  is  a  joy  unspeak 
able.  Before  they  could  come  back  to-  earth,  or 
rather  to  some  consideration  of  this  enigmatical  ves 
sel  and  its  enigmatical  connection  with  Brandeis, 
Schwartz  and  the  mysterious  Esmercdda,  the  young 
officer  had  returned,  and  stood  blinking  at  them 
ceremoniously  in  the  doorway. 

"Instructed  by  captain  your  presence  is  requested, 
please  be  so  kind,"  he  said,  addressing  Matt.  As 
Chris  rose  also  she  was  told  to  stay  behind. 

"Instructed  by  captain,  no,  no,  please  be  so  kind," 
exclaimed  the  young  officer,  barring  her  away.  "In 
structed  by  captain,  the  gentleman  only  will  follow 
me,  please  be  so  kind !" 

It  was  not  without  hesitation  that  Matt  obeyed. 
He  felt  a  certain  chilling  of  the  confidence  that  had 
animated  him  before.  The  young  officer's  tone  was 
masterful  in  spite  of  the  punctiliousness  of  his 
words,  and  carried  with  it  a  disquieting  authority. 

300 


JOHN  MORT 

It  was  hardly  what  castaways  might  expect  on  the 
man-of-war  that  had  rescued  them.  One  looked  for 
more  warmth,  more  good-will — some  sympathy  and 
friendliness.  Matt  was  very  much  disturbed,  and 
the  farewell  glance  he  exchanged  with  Chris  was 
troubled  indeed. 

The  young  man  led  him  through  various  passages, 
and  finally  brought  him  to  what  was  evidently  the 
ship's  wardroom.  Here,  seated  about  the  head  of 
the  table,  were  five  oldish,  grave-looking  officers  in 
undress  uniform.  One,  white-haired,  dignified  and 
somewhat  bald,  wore  the  insignia  of  a  rear  admiral, 
and  alone  of  the  little  party  spoke  as  Matt  entered 
and  bowed. 

"Good  day,"  he  said  curtly  in  fair  English,  mo 
tioning  Matt  to  come  nearer  and  dismissing  his 
companion  with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  "We  would 
like  to  talk  with  you,  sir." 

"I'm  at  your  service,"  returned  Matt,  advancing 
and  drawing  himself  up  very  straight,  as  no  offer 
was  made  to  give  him  a  seat.  "May  I  take  the  lib 
erty  of  asking  the  name  of  this  ship,  and  her  na 
tionality?" 

The  old  admiral  stared  at  him  frozenly. 

"It  is  I  who  will  ask  the  questions,"  he  rasped  out, 
"and  you  will  be  good  enough  to  answer  them.  Let 
me  say  directly  that  evasions  will  be  useless,  and 
vat  we  want  is  the  truth."  He  uttered  the  last 
words  with  a  sort  of  snarl,  which  was  taken  up  by 
the  others  in  an  angry  murmur.  The  undisguised 

301 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

hostility  of  the  whole  five  affected  Matt  disagree 
ably.  He  might  have  been  a  recaptured  convict 
confronting  a  board  of  prison  directors.  There  was 
the  same  pitilessness,  the  same  air  of  severity  and 
autocratic  power. 

"I  am  an  American  citizen,"  said  Matt,  with 
spirit.  "I've  committed  no  crime,  and  I  warn  you 
that  the  consequences  will  be  serious  if  you  interfere 
with  me." 

The  five  bristled  at  this  defiance.  One  of  them, 
with  eye-glasses  and  the  bearing  of  a  schoolmaster, 
folded  his  arms,  and  regarded  Matt  superciliously. 

"We  are  not  discussing  international  law," 
sneered  the  admiral.  "Might  is  right,  as  you  say 
in  English.  Our  patience  with  you  is  exhausted. 
You  will  tell  us  vare  is  a  certain  individual,  or  else 
we  make  you." 

"Ja,  or  else  ve  make  you,"  added  the  man  with 
eye-glasses,  staring  formidably. 

John  Mort!  So  it  was  he  they  were  after?  This 
ship,  these  officers,  the  rendezvous  in  mid-ocean — 
all  were  part  and  parcel  of  the  same  extraordinary 
business.  In  spite  of  his  bold  front  Matt  quailed 
inwardly;  beads  of  sweat  started  on  his  forehead; 
he  felt  like  a  man  on  the  eve  of  execution. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said  at  last. 
"An  individual?  What  individual?" 

"We're  not  here  to  waste  time  with  such  brepari- 
cation,"  returned  the  admiral,  accentuating  every 
word  with  a  rap  of  his  knuckles  on  the  table — large, 

302 


o 


"  We  would  like  to  talk  with  you,  sir  " 


JOHN  MORT 

misshapen  knuckles,  swollen  with  gout.  "You  know 
very  well  who  it  is  we  want,  though  what  you  do 
not  apprehend  is  our  determination  to  extort  the 
truth.  We  are  not  milksops  like  those  others,  who 
failed  so  wretchedly  in  America.  We  will  have  the 
truth  if  we  have  to  take  your  skin  with  it.  Vat  is 
your  answer  to  that,  Mistaire  Broughton  ?" 

"That  I  am  an  American  citizen,"  retorted  Matt 
in  an  unflinching  voice.  "You  are  proclaiming  your 
self  a  pirate,  and  outside  the  law  of  nations.  You 
can  not  frighten  me,  sir.  You  are  a  naval  officer, 
and  know  as  well  as  I  do  the  enormity  of  such 
threats,  and  that  it  will  break  you,  admiral  or  not, 
if  you  should  dare  to  lay  a  finger  on  me." 

"That  is  beside  the  point,"  exploded  the  admiral, 
reddening  furiously.  "Who  I  am,  or  what  I  am,  is 
no  goncern  of  yours.  Yes  or  no,  young  man,  and 
trifle  with  me  no  longer."  Then,  unrolling  a  chart, 
he  went  on:  "Gome  here,  and  show  us  that  island 
vare  it  is." 

Matt  stood  immovable. 

"I  can't,"  he  declared.  "I  don't  know  what  you 
mean.  Island  ?  What  island  ?" 

His  affectation  of  ignorance  exasperated  the  five 
officers,  who,  not  deigning  to  reply,  began  to  take 
counsel  with  one  another  in  low,  fierce  undertones. 
Occasionally  a  glance  would  be  shot  at  him  of  such 
malevolence  and  anger  that  he  trembled  for  the  out 
come.  They  seemed  to  be  still  debating,  when,  in 
answer  to  a  signal  he  had  not  perceived,  a  file  of  sea- 

303 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

men  marched  in  and  saluted  with  the  excessive  hu 
mility  peculiar  to  German  ships-of-war.  Of  the 
nine  or  ten  composing  the  little  party  the  majority 
were  petty  officers — grizzled,  bearded,  weather- 
beaten  men.  At  a  guttural  command  they  closed 
about  Matt;  and  one,  a  strapping  fellow  with  a  scar 
across  his  cheek,  suddenly  caught  him  round  the 
waist.  • 

To  resist  was  the  act  of  a  madman,  but  Matt's 
brain  was  whirling,  and  his  pent-up  rage  burst  all 
bounds.  With  a  wrestler's  trick  he  bent  down,  car 
rying  his  antagonist  over  his  head,  and  crashing  him 
to  the  deck  like  a  sack  of  oats.  In  an  instant  he  was 
hitting  out  with  his  fists,  indiscriminately,  crazily, 
a  jaw  here,  a  surly  eye  there,  smash,  smash,  smash, 
with  blood  streaming,  blows  and  yells  in  return,  and 
a  rush  that  sent  him  under,  burying  him  in  a  human 
avalanche.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  officers  his  life 
would  have  been  crushed  out  of  him,  but  they  darted 
into  the  thick  of  the  melee,  restoring  order  like  so 
many  policemen  at  a  street  fight. 

Suddenly  in  the  midst  of  the  hubbub  a  hush  fell ; 
officers  and  men  might  have  been  struck  by  light 
ning,  so  instantaneous  was  the  change,  the  silence, 
the  awe  expressed  on  every  face.  Matt,  getting  up 
and  following  their  gaze,  perceived  an  old  man, 
gaunt  .and  very  pale,  standing  in  the  doorway,  re 
garding  the  scene  with  a  peculiar  fixity.  He  was  in. 
a  blue  dressing-gown  and  looked  ill  and  broken,  as 
though  just  risen  from  a  sick-bed ;  but  his  eyes  be- 

304 


JOHN  MORT 

lied  his  bodily  weakness,  gleaming  like  coals  be 
neath  his  straggling  white  brows.  Matt  had  a 
curious  shock  of  recognition;  where  had  he  seen 
that  benign  old  face,  so  hazily  familiar,  like  that  of 
some  half-forgotten  friend  of  his  childhood. 

The  old  man's  voice  was  sharp  and  tremulously 
impassioned  as  he  advanced  slowly  into  the  ward 
room  and  addressed  the  officers.  Reproof,  indigna 
tion,  and  anger  were  written  on  every  feature.  He 
cut  short  their  explanations,  indicating  Matt  with 
a  quivering  gesture,  and  blazing  forth  anew  as  they 
seemed  to  be  palliating  their  harsh  usage.  He  moved 
over  to  Matt  and  put  one  arm  protectingly  about 
him. 

"Disgraceful,"  he  said  in  singularly  pure  English, 
though  with  the  accent  of  a  foreigner,  turning  from 
the  cringing  officers.  "They  would  have  it  that  I 
was  too  ill  to  be  disturbed  and  have  shamed  me  by 
their  treatment  of  you.  Will  you  spare  me  a  few 
minutes'  conversation  in  my  cabin  ?"  he  then  added. 
"Time  is  precious,  and  I  feel  sure  we  can  come  to 
an  agreement  more  quickly  than  the  gentlemen  here 
anticipate." 

Matt  acceded  willingly,  though  wondering  and 
mystified.  He  was  as  shaky  as  the  old  man,  and 
was  glad  to  hold  to  the  arm  the  latter  proffered  him. 
Together,  side  by  side,  they  made  their  way  to  the 
door,  which  was  deferentially  opened  for  them, 
every  one  standing  to  attention  with  his  hand  at  the 
salute.  Beyond,  at  the  far  end  of  the  passageway 

305 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

and  apparently  in  the  extreme  stern  of  the  ship,  a 
small  group  of  servants  in  livery  were  gathered, 
who  were  similarly  stricken  to  statues  at  the  sight 
of  the  pair.  Walking  unsteadily,  more  from  weak 
ness  than  the  movement  of  the  ship,  Matt  and  his 
venerable  companion  supported  each  other,  and  at 
length  reached  what  appeared  to  be  the  state  cabin. 

It  was  the  largest  Matt  had  ever  seen  afloat,  tak 
ing  in  the  whole  beam  of  the  ship,  and  was  furnished 
with  a  luxury  undreamed  of  at  sea.  Beautiful  an 
tique  furniture,  glowing  Oriental  rugs,  rich  dark 
hangings  of  faded  crimson,  slashed  with  gold — it 
was  like  stepping  into  a  mediaeval  palace  or  the 
famed  splendors  of  the  Yildiz  Kiosk.  But  mingled 
with  exquisite  heirlooms  of  the  past  were  other 
objects  of  aggressive  modernity.  Beside  the  carved 
bedstead,  with  its  piled-up  pillows  and  its  dis 
ordered  sheets,  was  a  night-table,  on  which  were 
several  medicine  bottles,  a  clinical  thermometer,  an 
inhaler  with  an  india-rubber  bulb,  and  a  thick  mass 
of  type-written  manuscript. 

"You  must  excuse  me  if  I  return  to  bed,"  said  the 
old  man,  whose  increasing  weariness  was  becoming 
painfully  apparent.  Settling  himself  in  a  sitting 
posture,  and  drawing  the  embroidered  coverlet  over 
his  long,  thin  legs,  he  relaxed  as  though  thankful  to 
be  at  rest.  "Sit  there,"  he  continued,  motioning 
Matt  to  take  a  place  on  the  bed  facing  him.  "Sit 
there,  and  tell  me  why  you  are  so  stubborn  in  re 
fusing  what  we  ask." 

306 


JOHN  MORT 

Matt  wavered,  inclined  at  first  to  deny  everything, 
but  it  was  difficult — impossible — to  lie  to  this  old 
man,  whose  courtesy  was  so  disarming. 

'Tut  yourself  in  my  place," Matt  replied.  "Would 
you  betray  the  best  friend  you  ever  had  ?" 

"Betray !"  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "Ah,  that  has 
been  at  the  root  of  all  our  troubles,  of  all  our  intol 
erable  delays  and  vexations.  You  think,  then,  our 
intentions  are  not  for  the  good  of  this  person  to 
whom  you  are  so  loyal?" 

"I  know  what  his  own  wishes  are,"  said  Matt 
boldly. 

The  old  man  paused,  regarding  his  companion 
with  an  air  too  kindly  to  be  called  critical,  yet  scruti 
nizing  and  keen. 

"I  will  surprise  you,"  he  said  at  last.  "My  sub 
ordinates  blundered  with  the  stupidity  of  most 
subordinates  when  entrusted  with  an  affair  of 
immense  importance.  They  could  not  see  that 
the  man  who  kept  one  secret  was  fit  to  be  en 
trusted  with  another.  It  was  a  decision  doubtless 
too  great  for  them  to  take,  though  had  it  been  pre 
sented  to  me  as  it  ought  I  might  have  consented. 
You  would  not  put  your  friend  in  our  power;  we 
would  not  put  ourselves  in  yours.  So,  both  in  error, 
this  melancholy  persecution  ensued,  amid  circum 
stances  more  suitable  to  the  Arabian  Nights  than  to 
a  matter  of  high  state.  You  do  not  know  who  I 
am?" 

"No." 

307 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"Have  you  no  conjecture?" 

"No."  " 

"Well,  I  suppose  the  poor  fools  must  be  com 
mended  for  that.  Mr.  Broughton,  my  house  has 
trusted  you  once,  and  now  the  head  of  it  will  trust 
you  again,  knowing  that  my  confidence  will  be 
sacred." 

Matt  nodded. 

At  this  the  old  man  bent  forward,  and  breathed 
the  name  of  that  Emperor-King  whose  dominions 
embrace  a  dozen  countries  and  comprise  the  fifth  of 
Europe.  Here,  for  obvious  reasons,  it  must  be  omit 
ted,  though  in  that  great  cabin  it  was  uttered  aloud, 
and  quavered  on  the  lips  of  the  Emperor-King  him 
self. 

Matt  repeated  it  with  amazement,  as  a  hundred 
pictures  of  the  man  before  him  recurred  to  his  mind 
— pictures  in  magazines  and  newspapers,  in  geogra 
phy-books  and  school  histories.  He  rose  respect 
fully,  and  bowed.  "Your  Majesty,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Be  seated,"  commanded  the  benignant  voice. 
"Yes,  I  am  that  personage,  who,  whatever  his  faults, 
deserves  the  consideration — the  compassion  of  man 
kind.  Now,  is  it  clearer  to  you  who  it  is  I  seek?" 

"No,"  returned  Matt,  with  an  ill-suppressed  agi 
tation.  "No,  your  Majesty." 

"I  will  tell  you,"  said  the  Emperor-King,  hardly 
less  moved,  his  trembling  hands  plucking  and  clutch 
ing  at  the  coverlet.  "The  friend  you  served  with 
such  devotion  is — my  son!" 

308 


JOHN  MORT 

That  terrible  tragedy  in  which  the  Crown  Prince 
was  supposed  to  have  taken  his  life  came  back  to 
Matt  in  waves  of  recollection.  He  remembered  the 
stir  it  had  made,  the  shock  of  horror,  the  profound 
mystery  in  which  the  affair  was  shrouded.  He 
remembered  the  speculations  as  to  what  had 
actually  happened  in  that  lonely  hunting-lodge; 
some  maintaining  that  the  beautiful  young  baroness 
had  killed  herself  rather  than  be  forsaken,  causing 
the  prince  to  blow  out  his  own  brains  from  remorse 
— others,  that  it  had  been  a  double  suicide,  a  death- 
pact,  deliberately  conceived  and  as  deliberately  exe 
cuted  by  the  heir  to  one  of  the  greatest  kingdoms  of 
the  world. 

Matt  was  dumfounded;  he  could  not  utter  a 
word ;  was  it  possible,  was  it  conceivable  that  John 
Mort  was  the — ? 

"You  know  the  story  that  the  world  knows,"  con 
tinued  the  old  man.  "You  know  the  story  I  myself 
believed  for  thirty-six  hours,  till — "  He  hesitated, 
lowered  his  voice,  and  looked  about  him.  "Listen," 
he  went  on.  "I  mean  to  hide  nothing  from  you.  It 
is  true  that  the  young  baroness  threw  caution  to  the 
winds  and  followed  the  prince  there;  it  is  true  she 
shot  herself;  it  is  true  that  my  son  in  his  frenzy 
tried  to  turn  the  same  pistol  against  his  own  breast. 

"To  face  such  a  scandal  seemed  impossible;  to 
escape  seemed  worse.  In  either  event  the  throne 
would  be  shaken  to  its  foundations,  and  my  son's 
name  blackened  beyond  redemption.  He  had  a  valet 

309 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

named  Zeitz — Ludwig  Zeitz — one  of  those  faithful 
simpletons  who  are  sublime  in  the  devotion  which 
our  house  has  always  inspired.  This  fellow,  who  af 
fected  to  copy  the  prince,  and  was  proud  beyond 
measure  of  a  resemblance  no  one  saw  but  himself, 
threw  himself  at  my  son's  feet.  He  would  shoot 
himself,  he  said;  his  body  would  be  mistaken  for 
that  of  the  prince;  death  atones  for  everything,  and 
my  son,  unpursued,  might  pass  the  frontiers  with 
out  detection,  and  lose  his  identity  in  the  countless 
millions  beyond. 

"His  proposal  was  disregarded;  was  treated  as  a 
gross  impertinence;  he  was  roughly  silenced  and 
ordered  to  hold  his  tongue,  while  my  son,  in 
the  midst  of  his  comrades,  persisted  like  a  mad 
man  in  his  desire  to  die.  Suddenly  there  was 
a  report,  and  they  rushed  in  to  find  this  Zeitz 
lying  beside  the  woman,  with  the  top  of  his 
head  blown  off.  He  had  dressed  himself  in  my 
son's  clothes;  had  taken  my  son's  rifle,  and  had 
resolved  the  matter  in  his  own  hare-brained  way. 
But  at  that  moment,  in  their  dismayed  state,  it 
seemed  to  my  son  and  his  friends  the  solution  of 
everything.  They  did  not  wait  to  ask  how  the 
corpse  of  the  valet  could  pass  the  examination  that 
would  necessarily  follow.  My  son  mounted  a  horse 
and  fled. 

"As  I  said,  the  imposture  for  thirty-six  hours  was 
not  questioned.  But  the  doctors  could  not  be  de 
ceived  ;  the  body  was  unmistakably  that  of  Ludwig 

310 


JOHN  MORT 

Zeitz.  I  myself  stood  before  it,  as  it  lay  naked  on 
their  table,  and  confirmed  their  opinion.  My  feel 
ings  toward  my  son  were  very  bitter;  he  had  dis 
honored  the  Imperial  house;  I  exaggerated  in  my 
heart,  though  God  knows  it  was  great  enough,  the 
harm  he  had  done  it  and  me.  tWith  the  connivance 
of  the  doctors  I  accepted  the  imposture.  The  world 
had  accepted  it,  and  I  decided  to  leave  them  in  ig 
norance. 

"It  was  not  until  years  afterward — in  1898  when 
the  Empress  was  taken  from  me  under  the  most  hor 
rible  circumstances,  that  I  found  in  her  papers  some 
facts  of  startling  import.  Her  extravagance,  which 
had  been  the  talk  of  Europe,  and  to  me  a  perpetual 
source  of  discord — had  its  origin  in  a  vast  debt, 
incurred  in  1890,  on  which  afterward  she  had  been 
paying  excessive  interest,  as  well  as  steadily  dimin 
ishing  the  principal.  And  the  one  who  had  obtained 
that  vast  sum  was  no  other  than  my  unhappy  son, 
who  had  gone  to  her  in  his  extremity,  and  had  thus 
acquired  the  means  to  hide  himself  in  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth. 

"There  is  nothing  the  world  will  not  condone  nor 
forget,  and  in  twenty  years  a  new  generation  arises 
to  whom  the  scandals  of  the  old  are  of  slight  signifi 
cance.  Men,  too,  are  less  uncharitable  than  we  be 
lieve  them.  I  began  to  ask  myself  whether  my  son 
might  not  return;  whether,  indeed,  his  act  were  so 
irreparable  as  it  had  seemed.  Was  not  the  reunion 
of  father  and  son,  so  long  separated,  calculated  to 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

soften  the  hardest?  My  people  love  me;  I  have  no 
need  to  surround  myself  with  guards  and  secret 
agents;  as  I  move  among  them,  often  with  my  little 
grandchildren  on  either  side,  clinging  to  my  hands, 
my  reception  is  one  to  touch  the  heart.  I  can  see 
eyes  moisten;  honest  faces  brighten;  everywhere 
that  look  of  good-will,  of  affection,  not — I  am  proud 
to  believe — for  the  old  Emperor  alone,  but  for  the 
man  he  is  and  has  tried  to  be. 

"Surely,  I  said  to  myself,  they  will  be  with  me  if 
I  recall  my  son.  The  sight  of  an  old  father,  white- 
haired  and  broken,  holding  out  his  arms  in  forgive 
ness,  is  one  too  human,  too  affecting  to  be  met  with 
scorn.  They  also  will  forgive,  every  father  among 
them,  every  mother,  every  son.  Then  it  was  I  began 
my  search,  sending  forth  agents  to  every  corner  of 
the  globe.  For  years  it  went  on,  without  the 
least  success,  until  my  special  bureau,  whose  service 
it  was  to  read  every  paper  printed,  learned  of  you 
in  Manaswan,  and  seized  a  clue  we  were  not  slow 
to  follow.  We  were  impelled  to  extraordinary  ex 
ertions.  I  sent  my  Chief  of  the  Secret  Police  to 
New  York  with  unlimited  powers  and  unlimited 
money.  He  surrounded  you  with  an  army  of  spies, 
who  reported  to  him,  and  then  to  me  by  cable ;  every 
thing  was  done,  permissible  or  sometimes  not  per 
missible,  to  gain  from  you  that  information  for 
which  I  would  have  given  all  the  life  I  have  left. 

'There  is  the  story,  Mr.  Broughton.  I  make  no 
offers  of  reward;  I  make  no  threats;  both,  I  ap- 

312 


JOHN  MORT 

predate  now,  were  mistaken.  I  simply  ask  you — 
beg  you — to  tell  me  where  my  son  is." 

For  a  while  Matt  remained  silent,  too  dazed  to 
answer. 

"I  must  make  a  single  stipulation,"  he  said  at 
length.  "That  we  land  together,  alone,  you  and  I 
— and  if  your  Majesty  will  permit,  my  wife — and  if 
your  son  decides  to  stay  you  will  promise  to  re 
spect  his  wishes." 

"He  will  come,"  said  the  Emperor.  "My  son  will 
not  refuse." 

Matt  thought  of  Mirovna,  and  was  less  positive. 
He  wondered  whether  he  should  inform  the  old 
man  of  her  existence,  but  refrained. 

"I  can  do  nothing  without  your  Majesty's  prom 
ise,"  he  said.  "The  decision  must  be  left  to  the 
prince;  he  must  be  free  to  choose — free  to  stay  if  he 
prefers." 

"Certainly  I  promise  that,"  returned  the  Em 
peror,  with  a  touch  of  querulousness.  "Compulsion 
would  be  worse  than  wrong ;  it  would  be  ridiculous. 
Why  do  you  still  hesitate?  It  is  not  kind  to  keep 
me  in  suspense." 

"I  am  not  hesitating,  your  Majesty;  I  am  only 
asking  myself  whether  you  may  not  be  mistaken  in 
thinking  my  friend  to  be  your  son." 

"Mistaken!  How  is  it  possible  to  be  mistaken! 
That  ring  he  gave  you — it  was  one  he  always  wore. 
The  tenacity  you  have  shown  in  guarding  his  name 
and  his  story,  does  it  not  speak  of  the  most  peremp- 

313 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

lory  instructions  ?  The  money  you  spent  on  his  be 
half  in  Sydney,  Brisbane,  Thursday  Island,  Tahiti, 
Guayaquil,  San  Francisco,  was  it  not  invariably  in 
Bank  of  England  notes,  whose  number  accorded 
with  those  provided  for  us  by  the  English  officials? 
Why,  for  six  years,  these  notes,  which  we  knew 
came  from  him,  formed  the  clue  which  we  cease 
lessly  attempted  to  follow.  Moreover,  Mr.  Satter- 
lee  is  positive  you  recognized  the  miniature  he 
showed  you.  Isn't  that  so?" 

"Yes,  the  resemblance  was  remarkable." 

"My  son  is  now  forty-seven  years  of  age.  Does 
that  not  accord  ?" 

"It  does — though  he  appears  somewhat  older." 

"Is  he  not  a  violinist  of  exceptional  talent?  It 
was  that  reference  in  the  newspaper  accounts  printed 
of  you,  which  first  attracted  our  attention." 

"Again  you  are  right — though  I  would  not  call  it 
talent,  but  genius." 

"Look  at  this  photograph — almost  the  last  taken 
of  him.  Have  you  still  any  doubts  ?" 

"No,  it  is  John  Mort." 

"John  Mort?" 

"That  is  the  name  by  which  I  have  known  him." 

"Mort,  you  say  ?  Mort !  Ah,  how  like  him  to 
choose  such  a  name !  Tell  me  of  him ;  describe  him 
to  me;  I  want  to  know  everything — everything." 

"But  who  was  the  gentleman  who  offered  me  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  Manaswan?" 

3H 


JOHN  MORT 

"A  celebrated  criminal  lawyer  of  New  York, 
whom  Frankasch,  my  Chief  of  the  Secret  Police, 
retained  among  others  to  assist  him.  A  very  clever, 
able  man,  who  proved  himself  invaluable." 

"And  the  schooner,  the  Esmeralda — how  was  it 
contrived  to  have  her  timed  to  meet  me  ?" 

"She  had  been  bought  from  the  first,  and  was 
manned  by  a  special  detail  of  picked  naval  officers. 
Frankasch  suspected  you  would  return  to  San  Fran 
cisco,  for  that  is  the  gateway  to  the  Pacific,  and  it 
became  a  part  of  his  plan  to  get  you  there  as  soon 
as  he  discovered  he  could  not  bribe  you.  The  ves 
sel  lay  there  for  over  four  months,  while  no  efforts 
were  spared  to  make  it  impossible  for  you  to  re 
main  in  eastern  America.  Admiral  von  Tripwitz 
— to  you,  Brandeis — spoke  too  little  English,  and 
therefore,  for  that  as  well  as  other  reasons,  it 
seemed  wiser  to  have  as  nominal  commander  Agent 
Schwartz,  of  the  Secret  Service." 

"And  how  were  those  jewelers — Snood  and  Har- 
, greaves — induced  to  treat  me  as  they  did?" 

"Oh,  that  was  simple.  They  were  shown  long 
official  cablegrams  from  Europe,  vouched  for  by 
our  consul,  warning  them  that  the  ring  had  been 
stolen.  All  they  required  was  to  be  indemnified 
against  a  possible  suit-at-law,  as  well  as  to  have  re 
turned  to  them  the  money  originally  advanced  you; 
on  the  ring.  When  these  matters  were  settled  to 
their  satisfaction,  and  a  substantial  bond  given,  they 
made  no  difficulty  in  surrendering  the  ring  to  the 

315 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

consulate.  Your  letter,  and  then  your  telegram, 
were  handed  to  the  consul,  who,  on  the  telegraphed 
orders  of  Frankasch,  replied  to  you  as  he  was  di 
rected.  Of  course,  he  knew  nothing;  he  merely 
obeyed  orders.  But  you  must  not  think  our  sur 
veillance  was  limited  to  San  Francisco.  The  whole 
western  coast  from  Vancouver  to  San  Diego  and 
Mazatlan,  was  under  a  constant  watch." 

"Your  Majesty  will,  of  course,  give  directions 
that  Snood  and  Hargreaves  are  undeceived?  It 
would  not  be  fair  that  I  should  remain  in  their  esti 
mation — a  thief." 

"No,  no,  no,  you  do  not  understand,  Mr.  Brough- 
ton.  Frankasch  never  accused  you  of  theft.  It 
suited  his  purpose  to  make  you  out  innocent — a 
sailor  who  had  picked  up  the  ring  for  a  trifle,  for 
he  would  have  been  glad  had  you  brought  suit 
against  the  jewelers  in  order  to  force  from  you  the 
particulars  of  how  you  came  into  possession  of  the 
ring.  It  was  even  arranged  to  guide  you  to  a  lawyer 
who  should  betray  your  confidence !  Shameful,  yes 
— detestable — but  were  we  not  justified  ?" 

Matt  paused,  trying  to  grasp  the  immensity  of  the 
conspiracy  of  which  he  had  been  the  victim.  What 
tens  of  thousands  had  been  lavished,  what  care  and 
skill  had  been  employed — to  close  the  net  about 
him!  Every  western  seaport  watched;  New  York 
the  headquarters  of  a  veritable  general  of  detectives; 
the  Estneralda  in  ambush  with  her  picked  crew — on 
what  a  gigantic  scale  it  all  had  been  prepared,  with 

316 


JOHN  MORT 

what  secrecy  and  thoroughness !  And  more  stirring 
even  than  this  was  the  thought  of  John  Mort,  now 
revealed  as  a  prince  of  Imperial  blood,  and  soon 
perhaps  to  be  a  king,  an  emperor,  with  armies,  fleets, 
palaces — salvos  of  artillery  as  he  moved  in  state. 
John  Mort!  With  his  wild  past,  his  self-imposed 
exile,  his  tragically  divided  life — what  a  poignant 
figure,  pacing  the  sands  of  his  lonely  island,  and  see 
ing,  not  the  combers  thundering  against  the  coral 
nor  the  palms  bending  in  the  wind,  but  that  far-off 
lodge  in  the  mountains  of  his  native  land  and  the 
blood  trickling  from  a  woman's  breast! 

But  the  old  man  did  not  suffer  this  reverie  to  con 
tinue.  He  had  unrolled  a  chart,  and  had  flattened 
it  out,  not  without  difficulty,  on  the  bed.  Painfully 
excited,  with  his  emaciated  hands  shaking  and  his 
voice  senile  and  broken,  he  besought  Matt  to  show 
him  the  spot  where  his  son  was. 

"There,"  said  Matt,  running  his  finger  over  the 
sheet  to  a  speck  marked  "Reef  e.  d."  "There,  your 
Majesty!" 

The  chart  bore  a  number  of  little  crosses  roughly 
penciled  and  strung  together,  each  with  its  date — • 
the  ship's  course,  plotted  from  day  to  day.  Matt 
regarded  the  last  cross  carefully,  and  in  reply  to  a 
question  estimated  that  Lotoalofa  was  some  five  de 
grees  to  the  eastward  and  about  a  degree  and  a 
half  south  of  their  present  position. 

The  old  Emperor  bowed  his  head  over  the  chart 
and  seemed  to  be  struggling  with  a  terrible  emotion. 

317 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

Then  he  looked  up,  his  face  white  and  drawn,  as 
though  he  were  on  the  point  of  fainting.  But  he 
silenced  Matt's  exclamation  with  a  gesture.  "Call 
Admiral  von  Todloben,"  he  gasped,  falling  back  on 
his  pillows.  "I  must  instruct  him  to  alter  the  ship's 
course  at  once." 


318 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LOTOALOFA 

BY  dusk  the  next  day  wind  and  sea  had  fallen  to 
a  profound  calm;  the  masthead  vanes  drooped; 
the  ship  might  have  been  steaming  over  a  summer 
lake.  In  her  sweltering  depths  her  engines,  pressed 
as  they  had  never  been  pressed  before,  throbbed 
hoarsely,  with  the  needle  of  every  gage  shivering 
at  the  zenith.  Her  decks  seemed  to  arch  and  fall 
back  at  each  mighty  revolution;  the  great  stacks 
darkened  the  evening  sky  with  the  deeper  black  of 
smoke,  belching  forth  a  four-fold  torrent,  sometimes 
lit  by  a  fury  of  sparks,  or  high-leaping  tongues  of 
flame.  The  enormous  hull,  urged  to  the  limit  of 
her  speed,  rolled  up  before  her  a  wide  line  of  broken 
water,  gleaming  with  phosphorescence  as  though 
turned  to  liquid  gold,  and  crisply  splashing  in  an  un 
ending  cadence. 

Lotoalofa  was  in  sight,  a  straggling  row  of  dots 
to  those  on  the  bridge;  surf,  beaches,  palms  and 
shining  shadowy  lagoon  to  the  watchers  in  the  fore- 
top.  Gathered  on  the  bridge,  and  surrounding  the 
venerable  monarch  who  reclined  in  a  deck-chair,  was 
the  little  party  privileged  to  be  with  him — Matt, 
with  binoculars  to  his  eyes,  standing  beside  stout 

319 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

old  Von  Todloben,  and  overtopping  him  by  a  head ; 
Chris,  in  an  officer's  cloak,  seated  on  the  elon 
gated  end  of  the  Emperor's  chair,  a  position 
of  honor  to  which  she  had  been  specially  called; 
Brandeis,  now  Von  Tripwitz,  in  a  borrowed, 
ill-fitting  uniform,  punctiliously  remaining  aloof 
from  the  frequent  consultations;  Captain  Count 
Hoyos,  the  nominal  commander  of  the  ship,  a  dark, 
fine-looking  man  of  artistocratic  appearance;  the 
navigating  officer,  an  eager,  guttural,  energetic  per 
son;  and  last  of  all  Schwartz,  who  sat  by  himself 
on  a  camp-stool,  very  humbly  and  respectfully,  as 
though  much  overcome  at  being  in  such  exalted 
company. 

As  night  closed  in,  an  animated  discussion  took 
place,  with  Matt  in  the  center  of  the  group,  and  for 
the  moment  the  most  important  individual  there — 
for  it  turned  on  him  whether  or  not  the  vessel  was 
to  hold  her  position  till  morning,  or  venture  the  en 
trance  of  the  lagoon  by  moonlight.  Matt's  own 
counsel  was  for  caution,  for  the  man-of-war  drew 
twenty-six  feet  of  water;  and  while  he  felt  reason 
ably  sure  of  piloting  her  safely  through  the  northern 
channel  (there  was  another,  the  western  channel, 
deeper  but  more  tortuous),  he  shrank  from  assum 
ing  so  great  a  responsibility  in  the  dark.  Twenty- 
six  feet  made  an  immense  draught;  a  cloud  across 
the  moon  might  easily  imperil  the  ship;  the  lagoon 
was  thick  with  coral  patches,  any  one  of  which 
might  pierce  her  plates.  Admiral  Von  Todloben 

320 


LOTOALOFA 

sided  with  Matt,  as  did  the  captain  and  the  navigat 
ing  lieutenant.  But  the  old  Emperor,  lying  in  the 
deck-chair,  could  not  be  made  to  appreciate  the  risk ; 
he  reiterated  his  request  to  have  the  ship  taken  in  at 
once;  from  suave  he  became  impatient,  and  the 
strain  of  suspense  he  was  under  showed  itself  in  an 
outburst  that  cowed  all  but  Matt  into  a  sullen  sub 
mission. 

"Your  Majesty  is  unwise,"  he  said  bluntly,  wait 
ing  till  the  old  man  had  recovered  his  sorely  shaken 
composure.  "If  you  will  permit  me  to  suggest  it, 
why  not  take  one  of  the  steam  pinnaces  and  let  the 
ship  hold  off  till  dawn?" 

This  simple  expedient  was  hotly  resisted  by  the 
officers,  to  whom  the  personal  security  of  the  Em 
peror  was  of  almost  sacred  importance;  but  the 
latter  was  more  than  pleased  with  the  idea,  and 
welcomed  it  enthusiastically.  He  scouted  all  objec 
tions  and  seemed  to  put  aside  his  bodily  weakness — > 
rising  in  their  midst,  and  astonishing  every  one  by 
his  unexpected  vigor  as  he  ordered  the  pinnace 
to  be  made  ready.  After  that  there  were  no 
more  protests;  one  may  argue  with  a  sick  man 
on  his  couch,  but  on  his  feet  the  Emperor  was 
enhaloed  by  an  authority  none  dared  question. 
The  bo'sun's  whistle  piped;  men  and  officers 
came  running  to  their  stations;  the  winches  rent 
the  air  with  their  irritating  clack.  While  the 
pinnace  was  being  hoisted  out  and  steam  raised 
in  her  boiler,  the  warship's  searchlight  began 

321 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

to  flash  its  dazzling  and  spreading  beam;  and  as 
though  in  answer  a  spot  of  light  glimmered  on  the 
horizon  like  a  red-hot  coal.  It  was  a  primitive 
beacon,  reared  and  brightly  burning  on  the  beach  of 
the  island,  to  help  the  ship  keep  her  position  and 
ride  out  the  night  without  danger. 

Such  concern  for  strangers  surprised  Matt  and 
made  him  wonder.  In  his  whole  previous  experience 
but  three  vessels  had  ever  entered  the  lagoon,  and 
John  Mort  had  resented  their  intrusion  and  short 
ened  their  stay  with  the  utmost  bitterness — refusing 
them  water  and  firewood,  banning  any  intercourse, 
and  disputing,  rifle  in  hand,  their  right  to  land.  In 
contrast,  this  friendly  beacon  struck  Matt  as  odd 
indeed,  and  at  variance  with  everything  he  remem 
bered.  But  he  had  little  time  to  give  to  such  reflec 
tions,  for  the  pinnace  was  soon  ready,  and  they 
descended  the  gangway  and  took  their  places  in  her 
cock-pit — the  Emperor,  Chris  and  Von  Todloben, 
with  himself  at  the  tiller. 

Although  the  island  seemed  near,  it  was  an  hour 
before  they  reached  the  edge  of  the  breakers,  and 
skirted  them,  groping  for  the  entrance.  The  night 
was  pitch-black;  the  hiss  and  rumble  of  the  surf 
was  Matt's  only  guide;  in  his  fear  of  overshooting 
the  pass  he  kept  the  pinnace  in  so  close  that  she  was 
caught  in  the  backwash,  occasionally  rolling  her  gun 
wales  under.  The  launch  was  a  heavy  little  tub, 
and,  for  all  her  noise,  made  very  poor  speed.  When 
the  moon  finally  rose,  and  showed  them  the  low, 

322 


Chris  was  seated  on  the  end  of  the  Emperor's  chair 


LOTOALOFA 

whitened  shores  of  the  island,  densely  fringed  with 
palms,  Matt,  as  he  picked  up  his  landmarks,  was 
annoyed  to  find  his  pains  had  gone  for  nothing,  for 
he  was  still  a  good  six  miles  from  the  break  in  the 
reef. 

It  was  another  hour  before  they  turned  into  it, 
and  opened  the  lagoon  beyond.  The  beauty  of  that 
vast  lake  in  the  moonlight  hushed  every  mouth.  Not 
a  breath  stirred  on  it;  its  silvery  expanse  stretched 
away  unbroken,  unruffled  to  the  rim  that  held  it 
virgin  from  the  sea.  There  it  lay  within  its  cup  of 
coral,  ineffably  peaceful,  mirroring  the  moon.  Far 
over  the  water  were  the  lights  of  a  settlement,  spark 
ling  like  fireflies  among  the  trees.  The  old  Emperor 
drew  his  cloak  more  closely  about  him,  though  none 
but  he  was  conscious  of  any  chill,  and  stirred  rest 
lessly,  as  if  in  the  throes  of  an  uncontrollable  impa 
tience.  His  silence  had  the  weight  of  a  command; 
no  one  spoke;  the  bustling  launch,  throwing  up  on 
either  side  a  ripple  of  phosphorescence,  alone  dis 
turbed  the  stillness. 

The  settlement,  embowered  in  palms,  grew  more 
distinct;  roofs  showed,  coral  walls,  drawn-up 
canoes,  the  long  stone  pier — all  touched  with  the 
magic  of  the  tropic  night.  How  familiar  it  was — 
how  beautiful !  To  Matt  it  was  a  homecoming ;  he 
inhaled  with  delight  the  scent  of  frangipani  and 
pandanus  blossom  wafted  over  the  lagoon ;  his  hand 
clasped  his  wife's  in  boyish  delight. 

The  end  of  the  pier  was  clustered  with  natives, 
323 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

who  stood  waiting  without  a  sound  for  the  boat  to 
approach.  It  made  a  bumpy  landing  at  the  stone 
steps,  the  boat-hooks  scraping  the  slimy  sides  of  the 
pier  and  bringing  it  slowly  to  rest.  Matt  leaped 
out  first,  crying  "Talofa"  right  and  left,  and  was 
mobbed  in  the  throng  of  half-naked  humanity  that 
surged  about  him,  calling  and  repeating  his  name 
with  unrestrained  joy.  What  nose-rubbing!  What 
excitement!  What  a  rush  and  jostle  of  kanaka  af 
fection  !  But  what  was  Peau  saying  ?  Peau,  grave 
and  dignified  in  even  that  press,  with  his  chiefly  car 
riage  and  earnest  eyes?  To  be  prepared  for  evil 
tidings!  What  did  he  mean ?  Where  was  the  chief  ? 
What  was  all  this  about  the  hand  of  God? 

"Oifea  le  alii?"  he  asked  again,  in  an  agony  of 
apprehension.  "Sei  faamatala  mai  le  uinga  o  lau 
puapuanga.  Po  ua  ngasengase  le  ona,  po — f" 

"Uamaliu,  Matthew!" 

"Maliur 

The  words  went  through  his  heart  like  a  knife; 
for  a  moment  he  could  not  speak;  it  was  the  Em 
peror,  clutching  at  his  sleeve,  who  roused  his 
stricken  faculties. 

"Where  is  he?"  quavered  the  old  man.  "Why  is 
he  not  here?" 

Matt  did  not  know  how  to  answer. 

"Ma  le  tatnaitdi  soo?"  he  inquired  of  Peau,  be 
set  with  a  fresh  dread. 

"Aue,  ua  maliu  foi,  Matthew.  Na  ia  fasiotia  e 
lona  lava  lima  ma  le  fana  faataamilo." 

324 


LOTOALOFA 

"Where  is  he  ?"  reiterated  that  quavering  voice. 

"His  Majesty  addresses  you,"  added  Von  Todlo- 
ben,  scandalized  at  the  American's  backwardness. 

Matt  could  hardly  say  it.  He  looked  helplessly 
from  the  one  to  the  other. 

"He  is  dead,"  he  said  at  last. 

The  old  man  tottered  and  would  have  fallen,  had 
not  Matt  sustained  him.  He  was  assisted  to  an  up 
turned  canoe,  where  he  sat,  half  fainting,  supported 
by  Von  Todloben.  Here,  in  a  space  left  by  the  na 
tives,  who  had  withdrawn  respectfully  to  a  little 
distance,  he  gradually  rallied.  He  beckoned  Matt 
to  him,  and  in  a  tone  strangely  colorless  and  so  low 
it  was  almost  a  whisper,  asked :  "When  did  it  hap 
pen?" 

"He  tells  me  it  was  about  four  months  ago,"  re 
turned  Matt.  "It  was  a  fever;  he  was  hardly  ill 
two  days,  though  for  some  time  before  he  had  suf 
fered  attacks  of  pain ;  he  passed  away  suddenly,  and 
was  conscious  and  without  any  thought  he  was  in 
danger  till  an  hour  before  the  end." 

"And  did  he  leave  no  word,  no  letter?" 

Matt  translated  the  question  to  Peau. 

"No,  Excellency,"  replied  the  latter  in  Samoan. 
"Though  I  asked  him  for  one  in  our  protection,  lest 
we  be  accused  of  his  death.  But  he  answered  mock 
ingly  he  did  not  intend  to  die,  and  was  not  Mirovna 
there,  besides,  to  speak  for  us?" 

Matt  repeated  this  with  some  omissions.  Then 
determining  to  conceal  nothing,  he  went  on :  "He 

325 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

was  not  alone,  your  Majesty ;  he  had  with  him  here 
a  young  and  beautiful  woman,  who  loved  him  de 
votedly,  and  who  killed  herself  on  his  grave.  He 
called  her  Mirovna  ...  a  very  beautiful  woman. 
They  are  buried  side  by  side  ..." 

The  old  man  listened  unmoved.  "It  is  not  for 
me  to  judge  her,"  he  said,  and  with  this  comment, 
never  referred  to  Mirovna  again,  remaining  silent 
for  a  long  while,  and  sunk  in  a  sort  of  stupor.  At 
last  he  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet  and  asked  to  be 
taken  to  the  grave.  "It  is  the  end  of  my  long  jour 
ney,"  he  said.  "The  end  of  many,  many  things." 

The  little  party,  guided  by  Peau,  took  their  way 
ashore  and  followed  him  along  the  path  that  led 
across  the  narrow  width  of  the  island.  The  moon 
light  streamed  through  the  palms,  outlining  on  the 
sandy  floor  beneath  the  giant  branches  that  met 
overhead ;  here  and  there  a  spreading  jack-fruit  cast 
a  blacker  shadow,  through  which  they  struggled  like 
men  in  a  cavern;  occasionally  they  passed  boggy 
pits,  steaming  miasmically,  orange  trees  of  pene 
trating  fragrance,  groves  of  bananas,  rustling  their 
tattered  leaves  and  grown  together  in  an  impene 
trable  jungle.  Soon,  however,  they  emerged  from 
this  zone  of  cultivation,  and  with  the  drone  of  the 
seaward  breakers  in  their  ears  found  themselves  in ' 
a  barren  region,  broken  in  little  hillocks,  and  open 
to  the  unshaded  brilliancy  of  the  moon. 

Here,  in  a  sandy  hollow,  and  unutterably  melan 
choly  in  their  aspect,  stood  two  small  wooden 

326 


LOTOALOFA 

crosses,  painted  white,  surmounting  a  pair  of  nar 
row  mounds,  side  by  side. 

They  stopped  and  the  white  men  uncovered ;  Peau, 
who  wore  nothing  on  his  glistening,  black  hair,  rev 
erently  inclined  his  head. 

"Which  is  my  son's?"  asked  the  Emperor,  gazing 
at  the  ground. 

Peau  pointed  at  the  nearest  grave. 

"The  chief  sleeps  there,"  he  said  in  native  to 
Matt;  and  then,  with  a  shudder  of  recollection: 
"The  stones  were  wet  with  Mirovna's  blood,  and  the 
fana  faataamilo  so  clenched  in  her  hand  that  I  could 
not  take  it  from  her — no,  Excellency,  I  could  not, 
and  thus  it  was  buried  with  her,  all  marveling  at  the 
fierceness  of  her  grasp." 

The  old  Emperor  had  fallen  on  his  knees  in  prayer 
with  one  arm  about  the  cross.  It  seemed  a  sacri 
lege  to  watch  him,  though  not  an  eye  was  dry,  and 
rugged  Von  Todloben  was  shaking  with  sobs.  The 
unceasing  moan  of  the  surf,  the  weirdness  and  lone 
liness  of  the  spot,  that  frail,  tragic  figure  crouching 
in  the  moonlight — all  affected  the  little  company 
profoundly.  It  was  a  relief  to  every  one  when  he 
staggered  to  his  feet,  and  with  pitiable  resolution 
turned  away. 

Nothing  was  said ;  the  unspoken  wish  was  obeyed ; 
they  slowly  retraced  their  steps,  the  old  man  walk 
ing  apart,  unassisted.  In  this  funereal  manner  they 
reached  the  pier,  where  the  Emperor  at  last  broke 
the  oppressive  silence. 

327 


A  PERSON  OF  SOME  IMPORTANCE 

"And  you?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Matt.  "Tell  me 
what  I  may  do  for  you ;  tell  me  how  I  can  reward 
you?" 

Matt  did  not  know  what  to  say ;  in  fact,  as  he  be 
gan  to  realize  his  own  situation,  he  felt  greatly  cast 
down.  .What,  indeed,  was  to  become  of  him  and 
Chris?  To  go  or  to  stay  appeared  equally  impos 
sible;  here  they  were  with  nothing  but  the  clothes 
they  stood  in,  waifs  where  they  had  expected  a 
home  and  welcome.  He  did  not  answer,  though 
perplexity  and  dismay  were  evident  on  his  face. 

"You  are  right,"  continued  the  Emperor.  "It  is 
for  me  to  give — not  for  you  to  ask.  Would  it  please 
you — would  it  content  you — to  remain  on  this  island 
and  receive  it  from  me  as  a  gift?" 

"Oh,  your  Majesty,  nothing  in  the  world  could 
make  me  happier." 

"Then  assemble  these  savages,  and  let  us  inform 
them  that  you  are  now  the  master." 

"It  is  not  necessary,  your  Majesty;  they  will  be 
lieve  me  when  I  tell  them." 

"And  I  must  do  more,"  went  on  the  old  man  with 
pathetic  earnestness.  "That  sum  once  offered  you  as 
a  bribe  and  so  honorably  refused — it  must  also  be 
yours.  I  shall  send  it  to  you  by  a  vessel,  and  if  then 
you  find  this  isolation  greater  than  you  can  bear, 
my  officers  will  be  instructed  to  take  you  wherever 
you  wish." 

Matt  was  overwhelmed. 

"I  should  be  most  glad  of  the  vessel,"  he  said, 

328 


LOTOALOFA 

after  stammering  his  thanks.  "But  as  for  money, 
what  there  is  here  must  already  be  a  fortune." 

"Accept  the  one  from  me  and  the  other  from  my 
son,"  returned  the  Emperor.  "Good-by,  my  friend, 
and  keep  us  both  in  your  remembrance,  as  I,  on  my 
part,  will  ever  cherish  you  in  mine." 

With  another  word  to  Chris,  whose  hand  he  bent 
over  and  saluted  with  stately  courtesy,  he  descended 
into  the  pinnace  and  took  his  place  with  Von  Todlo- 
ben.  The  latter  looked  up  and  raised  his  cap;  even 
as  he  did  so  the  boat  was  pushed  off  and  the  water 
began  to  boil  under  her  stern.  A  moment  later  she 
was  skimming  over  the  lagoon  toward  the  lights  of 
the  man-of-war,  now  twinkling  at  the  entrance  of 
the  pass.  Matt  and  Chris,  hand  in  hand,  gazed  after 
her  spellbound. 

A  deprecatory  cough  brought  them  back  to  earth. 

"The  great  house  has  been  prepared  for  the  re 
ception  of  your  Excellencies,"  said  Peau.  "And  if 
it  be  in  your  high-chief  desire,  a  trifling  repast  of 
turtle  and  palusami  awaits  your  condescension." 


THE  END 


YC  46683 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


